A Marriage for Keeps
by Madame Primpernelle
Summary: Heiress to a Quidditch empire, Georgianna Tattler thought she had it all; stunning good looks, more money than she could ever spend and an endlessly adoring father. When a freak Floo accident shatters her perfect life, Georgie finds herself faced with a difficult decision – she has six months to marry a Ministry-approved candidate or face losing her fortune.
1. Chapter 1

'So you see Miss Tattler, we have no choice but to freeze your bank accounts for the time being and hand the running of Quality Quidditch Supplies both in Diagon Alley and in Hogsmead over to your father's business partner, Mr Mclaggen.' I grimaced at the mention of Cormac, who made several passes at me every time we met and one Valentine's Day sent his house elf dressed as Cupid to serenade me. His chiseled physique and shiny blonde hair were lost in the shadow of his arrogant personality and I often pitied the poor witches who were taken in by his face alone and found themselves being treated to 'The 101 Fantastical Saves Of Cormac Mclaggen' over dinner.

'So when can I have them back? Surely Daddy's will has been read by now?' I pushed a wisp of dark hair behind my ear and tried to still my tapping foot. My lawyer paled and readjusted his tie, clearing his throat repeatedly.

'The thing is, Miss Tattler, is that your father left no will. It's not uncommon for this to happen in these circumstances; your father was a relatively young, healthy man with no significant medical complaints, he had no reason to think he needed a will. In such circumstances, you must follow Ministry procedures to obtain your inheritance.' His weak smile withered and died under my stony glare. I clenched and unclenched my hands on my lap and took a deep, calming breath.

'What procedures would these be? And where exactly would you expect me to stay during this time, as you've denied me access to my Gringotts vault and seized my house?' I shifted slightly in the hard wooden chair, smoothing the wrinkled, black material of my skirt over my knees and resisted the urge to rub my tired eyes.

'As you are without any other live male family members and your father left no will, to release your assets and receive your inheritance you will be matched with a Ministry-approved candidate who has failed to enter into a magical bond before the specified age of 25. You must marry within six months, at which time your assets will be released conditionally, and remain married for a minimum of five years or your money will be absorbed by the Ministry and your properties auctioned off; alternatively, producing a male heir before the five years are completed will guarantee immediate full release of all assets. During the next 6 months we will expect you to stay with your prospective husband in his home and inform us of your decision to marry or not to marry when you have made it.' I gaped at him, my shocked brain unable to string my thoughts together.

'Married? In 6 months?! To who?' I gasped at him, my breath coming in shallow gasps as my body remained paralyzed, rigid with shock. In the past week I had been subjected to horrors I wasn't prepared for; my father's funeral, coupled with the soul crushing grief of my Grandmother who had maintained a stiff upper lip for the entirety of my life, had left me numb and feeling more alone than I ever had before.

'You'll receive a letter in a few days when a candidate has been chosen for you. You'll then be expected to vacate your house and take with you no objects of significant value.' His smile was sympathetic but his firm tone left me with no doubt that there were no loopholes I could wiggle through here. I forced a smile onto my face, shook his hand and strode out of the sleek office, my heels clicking steadily on the marble floor.

At home, I collapsed into a plush armchair in the informal lounge, my vacant gaze not seeing the rich mahogany paneling and expensive furnishings I would soon have to give up. My brain whirred, trying to take in the knowledge that soon I would be married to a complete stranger, having to give up my role as the darling of wizarding London's high society and settle down to be a homemaker, something I had been so opposed to for so many years but would now have to embrace.

That, or face both bankruptcy and homelessness.

* * *

4 days later and 400 miles away from the swanky Ministry office, Miriam Wood was sat at her kitchen table, enjoying the early morning silence and a sweet cup of tea when a Ministry owl swooped in through her window and dropped a letter into the sugar bowl. The purple ink glared up at her from the parchment, _Mr Oliver Wood _written with just a little too much flourish. Glancing at the clock, she noted that her son would already be at training; his recent movement up from the reserves to be the new Keeper for Puddlemere United meant he was spending less and less time at home, sometimes sleeping at the stadium between intensive practice sessions in the run up to the start of the season. Faltering hands picked up the heavy parchment and broke the purple seal.

_Dear Mr Wood,_

_It is with great pleasure that the Department of Magical Co-operations can announce they have found a marital match for you following your failure to enter into a magical bond with another before your 25__th __birthday, a legal requirement of all magical persons put in place in recent years. Miss Georgianna Tattler has been notified of the match and will be arriving at your residence shortly. Should you chose not to fulfill the requirements of your binding contract you will be fined 2,000 galleons and will be re-entered into the Ministry system for another match. The Department would like to remind you of the importance of producing a new wizarding generation following the significant loss of witches and wizards during the Second Wizarding War and of the significance the Ministry is placing on promoting inter-blood-status marriages to prevent the rise of pureblood mania._

_Please find attached the conditions of your contract and a brief history of your prospective partner._

_Kindest regards,_

_Padma Patil  
Undersecretary, Department of Magical Co-operations, Ministry for Magic._

With shaking hands, Miriam lowered the parchment to the table, resisting the urge to fling the offending document into the fire. She smiled wryly as she imagined her son's reaction to such an order and then sighed heavily. Pulling out the second sheet of parchment, she found attached to it a photo of the girl who would shortly be deposited, seemingly against her will, on her doorstep. The picture showed a young witch with waist-length black curls laughing at something out of the shot, blue eyes gleaming as she tossed her head back in carefree, exuberant joy and a dimple formed in her left cheek. Perfect alabaster skin glowed in the flash of the camera and diamonds sparkled at her ears and throat.

**Name:** Georgianna Elizabeth Tattler

**Age: **20

**Birthday: **14th February

**Permanent residence: **141 Azule Court, London, England

**Personal history**: Born and raised in London by a Pureblood father and Muggle-born mother, attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, now parentless following the recent death of her father in a Floo accident while her mother was killed during first war due to her association with members of the Order of the Phoenix. All assets have been frozen and property seized in lieu her of contract with the Ministry. Heiress to small chain of Quidditch supply shops, with commercial properties in the United Kingdom and wider Europe.

Leaving the picture on the table with the letter, Miriam went to prepare the guest suite.

* * *

On the same morning, I threw my own letter as far from me as I could and let out a scream of frustration that echoed through the empty halls of my house. Oliver Wood had been in his 5th year when I had started Hogwarts and had probably never spoken a single word to me, let alone known my name. His obsession with Quidditch was infamous even to us in the lower years. I remember him vaguely as having thick brown hair closely cropped to his head so it wouldn't get in the way while he was playing and a deep voice that could be heard easily from the other side of the pitch.

Reluctantly, I heaved myself off my bed and pulled a large suitcase from my cupboard and began packing my clothes. A second sheet of parchment detailed what I could and could not take with me had arrived with my letter, and to my dismay I found my mother's necklace on the list. A ruby carved into the shape of a heart and hung on a delicate gold chain, I hadn't taken it off since her death. Wrapping it carefully in a velvet pouch I tucked it into my jewellery box and prayed it would still be there when I returned. Throwing clothes haphazardly in the direction of my suitcase I wrapped the picture taken at my christening, the last one where we were all together as a family, in several tshirts and placed it on top of the full case. Forcing the lid closed, I glanced once more around the large room, skimming my eyes over the white and gold décor and the luxurious four poster bed that dominated the space and closed the door on it all.

Less than half an hour later I was curled up on a brass bed on the Knight Bus, watching the sun set slowly over the ever-changing scenery. Realising I was now living on the contents of my personal bank account alone, being denied access to the family vault and the business profits, I refused the hot chocolate and toothbrush offered and focused very hard on not being sick. Across from me a middle aged witch with a heavy, square jaw and rigid blonde curls complained loudly to the spotty conductor about budget cuts at the Daily Prophet. I stared tiredly at the bejewelled glasses that perched precariously on the bridge of her nose and counted no less than 17 missing stones.

'Next stop, Castle Rock Lodge.' The conductor yelled as the bus lurched forward once again with a loud bang and I was flung against the bed post, my suitcase sliding out from its hold and skidding the length of the bus, bursting open and showering the flustered conductor with my clothes.

'Sorry!' I gasped as I hastily dodged between beds and stuffed my things back into my case while the blonde woman snorted derisively into a bag of pumpkin pasties. I glared darkly at her as I retrieved a particularly lacy bra from under her bed and took the matching pants from the blushing conductor. The bus jerked to a stop and doors burst open and I escaped onto the pavement.

'Thank yo-' I turned but the bus was already halfway down the road, hedges jumping out of its way as it swung around the corner. Scanning my surroundings, I realised the only house around was at the end of a very very long drive. Lights twinkled at me from a distance and I shivered. The pretty lace shift dress and leather jacket had been a wonderful idea that morning in my central London home but in the rural Scottish countryside I felt flimsy, underdressed and far too exposed to the bracing wind so unusual in September. I began the long trek up the drive, lighting my wand the keep from tripping in the fading light.

* * *

'Do you think she found us okay? I mean I can't see how she could have confused the house, it's the only one around for 7 miles, but what if she's lost? The poor thing, I bet she wasn't expecting it to be so cold, coming from London.' Miriam's babble floated meaninglessly around Oliver's head as he sat glaring into the fire, pretending to be working on Quidditch plays.

'Will you stop fussing? I don't care if she doesn't get here until next week, I'd rather she didn't come at all.' He growled, brows furrowed.

'Don't be so silly dear, you know she hasn't got anywhere else to go. I'm sure she's a lovely little thing…' She tailed off, glancing again at the photo propped up on the mantle. The clusters of diamonds adorning her couldn't be missed, and for a second she could see why her son had reservations. His intense rage when reading the Ministry letter had been something she had never witnessed before and she frowned at the moody figure slumped in his father's armchair.

'She's bound to be some spoiled, demanding socialite who simpers a lot and attends balls regularly. Merlin knows why they think we're a match, they should have carted her off to that MacMillian bloke, the one who follows the Minister around like a puppy, he seems far more up her street.' Miriam smiled absently at her son, not really listening to his grumblings as she peered out the window down the drive.

'I think I see a light! You should walk down, Oliver, and see that she's alright.'

* * *

**A/N: For those of you already following this story, I should explain that I've been reading back through the published chapters and decided to go back and re-edit them, correcting mistakes and filling in some details that have lead to holes in my plot later on. There will be no major changes to the story.**

**For new readers, welcome and I hope you enjoyed it! Feel free to leave a review, I enjoy getting those a lot :-)**


	2. Chapter 2

I cursed under my breath as my heavy suitcase got stuck once again and heaved it forwards. Unlike most sane people who had proper drive ways, this one was mainly mud with patches of straggly grass and large rocks. I clamped my wand between my teeth and used both hands to heave my reluctant case over the rock stranding it. Putting all my weight into it, I gasped as it suddenly came free and I flew backwards, bouncing into something hard and landing in a heap in the mud. I groaned, clutching at my ankle and groaned again when I noticed the state of my cream dress. Large splotches of brown marred the pale lace and decorated my exposed legs.

'So this is the lovely Miss Georgianna.' A voice came sarcastically from above me. I snatched up my fallen wand and directed the light from it upwards and saw a tall figure squinting down at me. Broad shoulders, dark hair, a delightful frown; it could only have been Oliver Wood. He smirked down at me and I scowled back.

'A hand would be nice?' I hissed through gritted teeth as I tried to move my rapidly-swelling ankle. A large hand came down to hover in front of me, and I grabbed hold, pulling myself up. To my dismay, Oliver immediately let go and grabbed my abandoned suitcase, hoisting it onto his shoulder and walking back in the direction he had come from without so much as a glance back at me.

'It's not much further to the house, try to see if you can manage it without landing on your face.' He called over his shoulder to me. I suppressed a growl of irritation and hobbled after him. The house that soon loomed in front of me wasn't really what I'd have called a _house; _three stories high, built entirely of weathered grey stone and with a small turret on one side, the miniature castle before bore the plaque 'Castle Rock Lodge'. I wiped the look of surprise off my face as the wooden door swung open, revealing a plump grey haired woman who stood at least two heads shorter than Oliver and who was wrapped in an innumerable amount of woollen shawls. She smiled warmly at me and reached a hand out towards me.

'Oh come on in, your poor thing. Oliver look at her! What happened? I'm Miriam dear, let me help.' Her soft hand grasped mine as she steered me inside. I mumbled something incoherent about my suitcase and falling and then sank blissfully into an armchair, closing my eyes as the warmth from the fire washed over me.

'That's my seat.' Oliver's hard voice interrupted. I opened my eyes in surprise and saw him standing four feet in front of me, arms crossed, glaring.

It was the first time I had really looked at him. Tanned skin stretched taut over hard, well defined muscles and broad shoulders flexed unconsciously as he shifted his arms slightly. Dark hair curled close to his head, a little longer than it had been while he was at Hogwarts and his brown eyes, flecked slightly with green and gold, could have been warm and expressive had he not been staring daggers at me. I shifted forwards in the chair, preparing to move to the sofa across the room when Miriam re-appeared from the kitchen through the door behind me.

'Oh Oliver, don't be so silly, it's just a chair. And she's not moving anywhere until something has been done about that ankle, it's nearly the size of her thigh.' She handed him '101 Magical Remedies for Minor Maladies' and knelt down in front of me. My breath hissed out from between gritted teeth as his large, warm hands manipulated my ankle.

'It's just a sprain.' He told me dismissively, flicking through the book quickly and picked up his wand. A tingling sensation spread through my leg and my ankle quickly returned to its normal size. I smiled gratefully up at Oliver, but he was already moving away.

'So Georgianna, what do you do?' Miriam settled herself onto the end of the sofa closest to me and waved her wand at the fire. It crackled merrily as it expanded, casting dancing shadows across the dark floorboards.

'Please call me Georgie, only Professor Mcgonagall ever used my full name and usually just when I was in trouble. I mostly do promotional stuff for Daddy's shops, get sponsors, run campaigns and meet with suppliers, that kind of stuff.'

'You mean you smile for a camera wearing tailored Quidditch robes and charm people into giving you money.' Oliver muttered from across the room. I glared at him and then continued, pretending he hadn't spoken.

'I was supposed to be doing an internship with Witch Weekly in the New Year, I've been wanting to branch out on my own and make my own name for a while now. I think with everything going on now I'll have to owl them and pull out.' I smiled weakly, not even trying to hide my disappointment. Miriam started speaking again, trying to gloss over the awkwardness of the moment.

'I don't mean to sound insensitive, but what happened to your father? The ministry only sent us a very brief profile of you, we didn't know what to expect.'

'It was a freak accident. Daddy sneezed as he said the name of the Hogsmead shop as he was about to Floo. The system couldn't work out where he was trying to go and sent him to a dead-end, unused chimney. It was too narrow at the top and it crushed him when he tried to Floo back out. He was only 52, he hadn't made a will yet so here I am, homeless and wrecking your son's life.' My eyes burned with unshed tears as I thought about my and the awkward silence returned.

'I don't mean to be rude, but would you mind if I went to bed? It's been a… trying day to say the least and I could really do with some sleep.' I coiled my long hair into a bun as I spoke, securing it and then stood, stretching my arms out and arching my back; a trip on the Knight Bus was never a relaxing experience and I thought longingly of a proper bed that wouldn't slid around as I lay in it. I thought I saw Oliver's cheeks turn pink as he glanced away from my elongated form but I paid no attention to it – he'd been so rude and obvious in his resentment of me there was no possible way he could have found me anything more than irritating.

'Oliver will take you up dear, we've put you on the west side of the house, you won't hear the wind so much over there.' I smiled gratefully at Miriam and followed Oliver up the wide staircase to the second level and trailed behind him as he dragged my suitcase down the corridor, pushing open a door and gesturing for me to enter. My room was large, with a pretty floral cover on the bed and a cream bathroom gleaming behind a mahogany door on the other side of the room. A pile of extra blankets sat on the end of the bed and a fire was burning low in the grate.

'I have to be at training for 7am and I like to be early to warm up properly so I expect my mother will take you into the town tomorrow. You're going to need warmer clothes than that here.' Oliver cast a disapproving eye over my ruined dress.

'I have more clothes, tell her not to worry. Well, goodnight, have fun at practice.' I said to him, yawning. His features softened slightly into a half smile and then the door closed, leaving me on my own. The cosy room couldn't have been more different to my own palatial bedroom at home but I felt strangely comfortable. Oliver clearly wasn't happy about my arrival, but then neither was I. We would have to sit down and talk things through properly soon, I thought to myself as I ran a bath, adding a liberal amount of Sleep-Easy bath oil and finding my oldest, softest pyjamas from my suitcase. Dropping my ruined dress into the basket by the sink, I stepped into the bath, letting out a deep sigh as the hot water relaxed my muscles.

Nearly an hour later I slipped between the soft sheets on the bed, my skin wrinkled from the hot water. Sleep came surprisingly easy that night, no doubt thanks to my bath oil, and I drifted off trying not to think about how nice Oliver had looked when he finally stopped frowning at me.

* * *

Purring.

Something very, very close to my head was purring.

And it was getting louder.

I blinked my eyes open, staring blearily at the heap of white fur practically sitting on top of my head, taking up all of the pillow next to me and most of my own.

'Hey kitty.' I mumbled, reaching a hand out to stroke the fluffball's head. She purred louder still and head-butted my hand gently. Eventually I dragged myself out of bed and got dressed, pulling on a red jumper over my shirt and wriggling unattractively into a pair of skin-tight black jeans. I scooped up the cat and padded softly down the corridor, fully appreciating the size of Oliver's house in the daylight. Portraits of his ancestors watched me curiously as I passed and a full sized painting of a man who closely resembled Oliver snoozed gently at the top of the stairs as I descended.

Entering the kitchen I found Miriam washing up a mug, a stack of pancakes steaming on the side. The family clock on the wall showed Oliver to already be at work, and that it was far closer to midday than I had anticipated.

'Morning Miriam.' I aimed at her back as I pulled out a kitchen chair and lower myself into it, still hugging the cat.

'Good morning dear, did you sleep well? I see Maleficent found you this morning.' She smiled as she handed me a cup of tea and the towering pile of pancakes.

'Better than I thought I would until this little monster woke me up.' I nuzzled the cat and then began the process of trying to eat without displacing her from my lap. A jar of syrup floated over to me and she batted at it with her paw, sending it spinning across the kitchen. I giggled and then noticed Miriam watching me, a curious expression on her face.

'I know Oliver isn't exactly happy to have you here Georgie, but between you and me I think he needs something in his life other than Quidditch and even if you two don't work out, you might just open his eyes to the rest of the world.' She pulled out a chair and sat across from me. 'And besides, you're a very pretty girl, I'm sure Oliver will pull himself out of his mood soon and notice.' She winked conspiratorially at me and I blushed.

'Somehow I don't think it's going to work out. He hates me already and we don't even know each other. How can the Ministry expect us to get married? It's so unfair.' I took a bite of my pancakes and nearly moaned with pleasure, wondering whether the Ministry would let me marry Miriam instead of Oliver based on her cooking skills alone.

'He doesn't hate you darling, he's just very bad a being told what to do. I think you'll find you get on better than you think.'


	3. Chapter 3

Punching the Quaffle away from him, Oliver spun around on his broom, breathing heavily. He'd arrived at practice early and done several dozen laps around the pitch to try an clear his head, to no avail as he was still finding it hard to concentrate, his mind continually drifting back to the raven-haired witch with the tiny waist and the short dresses curled up in bed in his house. Georgie was not what he had been expecting; for starters she seemed so _normal._ When he thought of the other upper-class witches he encountered at Quidditch functions, he thought of uptight horse faced bottle blondes with pushy mothers and non-existent eating habits.

So far Georgie had only proved herself to be polite, a little clumsy and as easy on the eye as the Salem witch he had celebrated with after Ireland won the Quidditch World Cup - the interruption of the Death Eaters had allowed him to steal only a couple of kisses from her but her pretty face had lingered in Oliver's brain; until now. Before Georgie's arrival, he'd made some inquiries to his friends in London about the witch and found that while she was predicted to be present at every social event, a prediction that was usually accurate, she also had a reputation for playing hard to get and most of the men she had flirted with had never made it anywhere near her bedroom. This information was strangely pleasing to him, though he wasn't sure why.

'Wood! Focus!' His coach yelled as a Bludger narrowly missed his head and he shook himself out of his stupor, turning his attentions back to the rigorous training session.

'Something bugging you Wood?' Charley Clearwater called as she streaked passed him, Quaffle tucked under her arm. He watched her lithe body twist on her broom and recalled the many drunken nights he had spent in her apartment after post-match celebrations, at the mercy of her body and her skilled administrations, and it occurred to him that maybe she was exactly what he needed right now; a distraction from the girl at home cosying up to his mother and sitting in his chair.

When practice had finished Oliver found himself slumped against the wall opposite the female changing rooms, practice bag slung over his shoulder. When Charley finally emerged, rubbing at her dripping red hair with a towel, she smiled slowly.

'Can I help you, Wood?' She smirked, a familiar glint appearing in her dark eyes.

'Want to go for a drink Clearwater?'

* * *

'…and this is Oliver's 7th birthday. His dad got him that broom, it was the first one he ever had that went more than five feet off the ground and he used it every single day.' Miriam smiled fondly down at the photo album on her lap, a tiny Oliver zooming in and out of the photo on a broom clearly too big for him. She'd spent the day showing me around the local area and enlisting my help in domestic chores around the house. Her calm exterior and ease of manner had allowed me to relax in her presence enough to be sitting side by side with her on the sofa, legs curled up underneath me and a half-empty glass of oak matured mead in my hand as I laughed at Oliver's childhood photographs.

'He was cute.' I smiled, turning the page. A photo of an awkward looking 11 year old Oliver dressed in Hogwarts robes a size too big for him caught my eye and I smiled, remembering my own similar experience. Ignorant to the world of girl's clothes, my father had taken me to Madam Malkin's and left me there while he went searching for an owl for me. The plump little witch had promised me I would be growing so fast my robes would only be too big for a few months at the most; they only stopped dragging on the floor when I finished my fourth year, by which time I had grown a pathetic number of inches and only just managed to reach 5'5 by the time I left Hogwarts. A few pages on a picture of 16 year old Oliver with a pretty brunette I recognised as Katie Bell surprised me; his obsession with Quidditch was so great I had almost expected him to be completely blind to the opposite sex.

As if on cue, the front door burst open. I had half risen from my chair, wand aloft when I realised it was Oliver staggering though the door, cursing loudly as he tripped over the welcome mat. And he wasn't alone. A tall redhead with a perfectly straight bob of vivid red hair and a very low cut top was clinging to him, laughing raucously as she fell across the threshold.

'Mum… Hiiiiiiii... I didn't think you'd still be up.' Oliver slurred as the woman giggled. Miriam's eyebrows were raised so high on her forehead they had nearly vanished in to her hairline. I sank back into my seat, trying to make myself as small as possible as all the blood in my body seemed to rush to my cheeks. The redhead stared openly at me, her dark eyes flickering over my body, taking in my jeans and knitted jumper and a smirk spread across her face. She re-doubled her grip on Oliver and he absentmindedly wrapped his arm around her waist to support her weight.

'And who is your friend, Oliver?' Miriam's tone was more than a little frosty and I wondered whether this was a regular occurrence. The thought of an endless stream of girls coming and going from Oliver Wood's bedroom made me feel a little sick.

'This is Charley, she's my friend.' Now fully supporting Oliver as he sagged against her as he spoke, and the woman nodded feverishly and grabbed his hand possessively.

'We've been dating for months.' She slurred, and then narrowed her eyes at me. 'Ollie-poo, who's that?'

'That's just Georgie, she's nobody. Let's go to bed.' He tailed off into a mumble and then started to climb the stairs, slutty girlfriend in tow. As they staggered up her shirt lifted a little, showing the golden brushes of Puddlemere United tattooed onto her lower back. Figures, I thought, professional Quidditch player and owner of a tramp stamp. There was no reason to be jealous, it wasn't like Oliver was my real boyfriend or anything, I kept repeating to myself that night as I tried and failed miserably to get to sleep. _"She's nobody…" _echoed round and round in my head and I couldn't help but feel a little hurt that Oliver was so disgusted with our situation he felt the need to parade other girls around in front of me and dismiss me in front of them and his mother. I rolled over and punched a pillow, a wave of longing for my own mother and her wise words washing over me and a steady drip of tears started rolling down my cheeks.

I avoided going downstairs for as long as I could the following morning, fearful of encountering 'Ollie-poo' and his girlfriend at the kitchen table. I knew he didn't have Quidditch on a Sunday and I was anxious to avoid having to see him today. I knew we needed to talk and I wanted to prolong the time until that moment for as long as possible.

'Well I hope you're proud of yourself.' Miriam said quietly to Oliver as she handed him a Pepper-Up Potion and a strong coffee. He groaned in response, his head resting on the wooden table.

'I mean, you've barely spent 5 minutes with Georgie since she arrive, she's in the exact same position as you and you're treating her as if she planned this whole thing! The girl just lost her father, Oliver, and she's had everything she owns taken away from her and on top of all that she's been told she needs to marry a complete stranger to get it all back. A complete stranger, I might add, who has spent the last two days being moody and vile to her and has paraded his indecent 'friend' in front of her without so much as flinching.' Miriam continued, her voice rising steadily. Having woken up with Charley nowhere to be seen, Oliver had hope the night before had been a very bad dream. Sadly, his mother's anger told him otherwise.

'I didn't ask for this Mum.' He replied, his voice muffled by the table. Miriam sighed.

'I know you didn't, but you need to at least try to sort this out. Do something with Georgie today, actually spend some time with her. You might find she's not as offensive as you think.'

At that point I entered the kitchen, Maleficent twining herself around my ankles with each step.

'Hi.' I said quietly and Oliver slowly straightened up from his slumped position. He smiled awkwardly at me but I looked away, walking over to the counter to pour myself some coffee. A frantic whispered exchange took place behind me and then Oliver cleared his throat loudly.

'Urm, Georgie, do you want to get some lunch or something today?' I turned slowly, and surveyed Oliver. Nodding slowly, I watched as relief spread across his face and Miriam gave him an encouraging smile.

'You could show her the stadium, Oliver.' Miriam said pointedly and I nearly laughed at her lack of subtlety.

And so two hours later I found myself in the middle of the Puddlemere United Stadium as Oliver excitedly explained to me their training methods and what tactics they were employing for the first game of the season. The gale force winds had finally relented and when the clouds finally cleared some blue sky appeared over the gold goalposts. I breathed in the fresh air deeply and watched Oliver's animated face as he spoke about the sport he clearly adored and I wondered if he would ever talk about a person in that way or whether his wife and future children would have to contend with always being second best in his eyes.

'Want to get some food?' Oliver finally asked. I nodded and he steered us in the direction of the clubhouse, where an entirely over-enthusiastic maître-d seated us in a plush velvet booth and brought us a bottle of oak-matured mead on the house. I scanned the menu and decided on a chicken salad, knowing Miriam would have cooked enough to feed an army for us that evening. Oliver smiled at me awkwardly, twiddling his thumbs and I nearly laughed the tension was so thick.

'Want to play 10 questions? I don't really know much about you.' He blurted out.

'Sure.' I replied.

'Okay. Urm… Hogwarts house?' He asked.

'I'm almost offended you think I'd be in anything but Gryffindor.' I chuckled.

'Favourite teacher?'

'Flitwick. He was just so cute.'

'Mine was Trelawny, that old bat was hilarious. She once told me I'd die in a terrible sailing accident during my fourth year; I've never even been on a boat.' He laughed. 'Favourite colour?'

'White. Boring I know, but I like it.'

'I don't have one, though I suppose it should be Puddlemere blue. Or maybe Gryffindor red, I wore it on the Quidditch pitch for so long. Are you superstitious?'

'Not at all.' I laughed, 'I once had a black cat cross my path while I was walking under a ladder after opening my umbrella indoors. That day I found a galleon in the gutter, bumped into Gwenog Jones in Diagon Alley and managed to talk her into giving me 4 free top-box tickets to their finals match against the Tornadoes. It was a good day.' I reminisced and Oliver laughed as our food arrived, momentarily interrupting the flow of conversation. I was finding myself relaxing more now around him, knowing he wasn't just going to yell at me all the time and that he actually had a different facial expression to the frown he had been wearing the past couple of days.

'So what exactly do you propose we do about this situation?' He asked once our plates had been cleared. I tilted my glass from side to side, thinking things through in my head.

'Well… I think the best thing to do would be to treat this as a business arrangement. We get married and stay married for five years until my assets have been fully released, at which point we can divorce and go on with our lives. It would be an entirely platonic relationship – you could go on seeing what's-her-name as long as nobody at the Ministry found out. You wouldn't even have to live with me, I could move back to London and we'd just owl from time to time. I'd offer you a generous divorce settlement as compensation of course, and I don't expect you to agree if you don't want to.' I splayed my hands out on the table, leaning forwards slightly as Oliver sat in silence.

'That does sound like the most sensible thing to do.' He consented after an agonising silence. I smiled broadly at him.

'It'll be fine.' I said, taking a large gulp from my glass.

'I think we should get married in March.' Oliver said later as we were wandering down the street. 'It's after the end of the Quidditch season and I know it's nearly the whole six months away but I just couldn't convincingly manage it before then.' I nodded, chewing my lip. I had secretly hoped he would suggest we married as soon as possible so I could return to London but I bit my tongue. I was asking a lot of him, after all, and I couldn't always have everything my way.

'That's fine. But more importantly, what do we tell your mother?'

* * *

'Are you sure that's going to work?' Miriam asked worriedly once we explained the situation to her over dinner. I was stuffed to burst with roast beef, creamy mashed potatoes and vegetables, followed by a generous helping of apple crumble and custard; Miriam had lamented about my slender body on more than on occasion, expressing a desire to see a but more meat on my bones.

'It'll be fine Mum, it's the best way to handle the situation. Georgie and I are adults, this will be nothing more than a business arrangement.' She nodded slightly at her son, mouth still tight with worry. I reached over and covered her hand with mine.

'Don't worry Miriam. I'll be out of your hair in six month's time at the very longest. And we can just have a small wedding, we don't need to make a big fuss of it.' I said, smiling.

'Oh no. No son of mine is getting married without there being a song and a dance about it, fake marriage or not. This wedding will be in keeping with Wood family traditions or it's not happening at all!' She threatened.

'That's fine.' I sighed inwardly, 'But I'll pay for the wedding. I have enough in my bank account to cover that and I owe it to you.' My voice was firm and she must have sensed there would be no argument here that she would win.


	4. Chapter 4

We spent the next two months in a wedding haze, Miriam and I. With Oliver fully engrossed in all things Quidditch, I was given a free reign over the wedding plans, though Miriam did insist on a few things. Amusingly, the first was that Oliver was to wear the traditional family kilt for the ceremony and that we would be serenaded by bagpipes as we exited the venue as a married couple. For a pre-spring wedding in Scotland with a possibility of snow, I settled on a 'Fire and Ice' theme – unoriginal but I was determined it would be beautiful.

I had visions of a large marquee set up in Oliver's vast garden, draped in white silk lit by floating red and white candles. Self-Dissolving Silver Crystal Flurries would drift gently down to the crimson dance floor from the ceiling, magically-refilling champagne would be served in ornate silver goblets and Everlasting-Ice sculptures would decorate the room. Miriam's twin five year old great-nieces, Annabel and Cornelia, had been drafted in to be my bridesmaids and soon I would have to go dress shopping for both them and myself.

I put off buying my wedding dress for as long as I could. It seemed wrong, planning and getting excited for something I knew was actually fake, and I was worried that trying on wedding dresses would tip me over the edge of reality and into a fantasy land where Oliver had married me out of love and was excited to spend the rest of his life with me. What was really waiting for me after the fake honeymoon was an empty house in London and a large business empire to take control of.

When it could be avoided no longer, I found myself being frog marched down the back streets of Diagon Alley with Miriam and her enthusiastic niece Bridget, her two daughters in tow. I was shepherded in the direction of a small bridal boutique that carried 'only the best dresses' according to Bridget and once inside we were seated on carefully upholstered cream sofas and offered sparkling water as well as a selection of Never-Melt flavoured ices from Fortescue's. Bridget's young daughters pounced on these immediately and sat contentedly as we chatted with the sale assistant, explaining what we were looking for.

I started looking for bridesmaid dresses first, knowing the little girls wouldn't remain interested for very long. In no time at all we had them fitted into simple sleeveless white dresses with knee length skirts held out from their legs by layers of frothy netting, a wide band of red material wrapped around their waists and tied into a large bow at the back. They giggled excitedly and twirled in front of the large mirrors.

'Are you going to be my Aunty George?' Cornelia lisped at me later as she tried on shoes.

'I guess I am.' I replied, as I tied the laces.

'Good.' She said, a smile breaking out across her face, 'You're very pretty.' She told me seriously before bouncing off to join her sister, who was trying on a diamanté encrusted tiara almost as big as her entire head.

Finally it was my turn. I examined dress after dress, discarding the ridiculously ruffled or enormously poofy. Bridget forced me into dozens of dresses that afternoon, including one made entirely of white feathers that tickled me so much when I moved I had to lie down and be laced out of it because I was laughing so much. While there were a few dresses I liked, I didn't love any of them and I was starting to lose hope as the afternoon wore on.

'Georgie, how about this one?' Miriam asked, holding out one of the few dresses I hadn't yet tried. Pure white silk, it was strapless with an empire waist, falling to the floor in an uninterrupted sheath of soft material. The bust twisted over to form a sweetheart neckline and was delicately decorated with hundreds of tiny glittering diamonds. I gaped at the sheer perfection of it and my hands reached out for it of their own accord.

'It's beautiful.' Bridget murmured in approval and led me to a dressing room. I stripped to my underwear, thanking Merlin I had remembered to wear the dress-appropriate but highly uncomfortable lace bra and pants I saved for special occasions. The shop assistant slipped discreetly in behind me and slid the dress over my head. The cool material barely rustled as she adjusted the lace up back and I hardly dared step out in front of the mirrors when she declared me done. The long skirt whispered seductively over the floor as I moved out of the changing room, a small puddle train flowing out behind me.

Bridget's excitement was all the confirmation I needed that this was the dress for me. She was almost jumping up and down, clapping her hands with delight as she stared at me. Miriam's eyes were glassy with tears as she smiled at me and she reached out to give me a gentle hug, trying not to disturb the dress as she did. My eyes locked onto my reflection in the mirror over her shoulder and I stepped carefully closer. The girl looking back at me was elegant, with a slender waist draped closely in in pearly fabric, her skin only a shade or two darker. A curl had escaped my topknot and fell over my shoulder, the darkness of it vivid against the white dress and the diamonds glittered enticingly as I shifted slightly closer. For the first time since I began planning my sham wedding, I felt like a bride.

And the thought panicked me.

* * *

'What are you doing tonight Ollie?' A seductively low voice penetrated Oliver's thoughts as he sat in the stands after practice, exhausted, his head cradled in his hands as Quidditch plays whirred round his head.

'I'm going to bed Charley, on my own, in my own house, perfectly sober.' He groaned. Since their 'date' several weeks ago he'd been avoiding her like the plague, slightly scared of the enthusiasm she was now showing towards him. In the previous week's team press conference, he'd pointedly told a reporter he wasn't dating at the moment – she hadn't taken it well at all, in fact in several of the pictures later published her expression was terrifyingly angry. He looked up to see her pouting, an expression he found disturbing of the face of a professional Quidditch player who had once punched an opposing Keeper in the face so hard he passed out so she could score, without thinking twice about it.

'Really Ollie, I do think you're being a bit rude. I understand if you don't want to tell people we're together but to just use me for sex is so _mean._' Losing the low growl from her voice, Charley dropped her bag to the floor and crossed her arms over her front, glaring slightly. In the past two months, Oliver had grown to appreciate the subtle differences between her and Georgie and they seemed glaring obvious in that moment; Charley's pushy manner, which he had once found so attractive, now paled in comparison to Georgie's gentle nature. Considerate not cocky, witty not crass and natural not enhanced (it was no secret the Quaffle sized globes that sat high on Charley's chest had not come about by themselves), Oliver often caught himself wondering how he could have been so against Georgie becoming a part of his life.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind he pushed it away reflexively; Georgie was there out of obligation, not from her own choice and the very last thing he wanted to do was to start to get attached. Come March she would be swanning back to London, thousands of Galleons under her belt and with some pretty wedding pictures to boot. He sighed heavily and stood, pushing past Charley without saying another word and making his way down the steps. Reaching a safe point to Apparate, he concentrated hard on his home and succumbed to the strangling pressure that would get him there.

* * *

I stood at the sink later that evening, wand outstretched, supervising the dishes as they washed themselves up when I became aware of Oliver standing behind me.

'Hi.' I smiled, turning my head slightly so he was in my line of sight.

'Need any help?' He asked, hands gesturing towards the sink.

'I'm almost done, but thanks.' He nodded and turned to lean against the counter. I could feel his eyes on me and flushed slightly, carefully avoiding his gaze.

'Mum told me you found a dress today. For the wedding, I mean.' I nodded silently and he continued, 'That's good then, I suppose. One less thing to worry about.'

'Oliver, where are you going with this? You never want to talk about wedding stuff.' I moved the dishes out of the sink and started drying them, a steady stream of hot air from my wand quickly blasting the water from them.

'I don't know Georgie, I feel really weird about this.' I slowly turned to look at him. He had dark shadows under his eyes, no doubt a result from all of the late practices. His body was tense, his hand rumpling through his messy hair in a sign of awkwardness.

'It's a business arrangement Oliver, we agreed it was for the best. We don't have any other choice.' I sighed.

'I know.' He murmured and there was an uncomfortable silence before he spoke again.

'The club is having our annual Christmas party in two weeks, on the 7th December, and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come with me as my date? I figure we have to send the wedding invites out soon, it would be good to give people some warning and a chance to meet you beforehand.'

'That sounds like a wonderful idea.' I jumped as Miriam spoke from the doorway, not having heard her sneak up on us. She smiled encouragingly at me and I didn't have the heart to argue that it would be a bad idea.

'I'd love to go.' I told Oliver reluctantly and he beamed.

* * *

I ran my hands frustratedly through my hair as I glared at the mound of discarded dresses on the bed. Too frilly, too long, too plain, worn too many times before, nothing I owned seemed right for Oliver's Christmas party. The invite sat propped up on the side, the words 'Black Tie' zooming mocking around the front as I stared at my under-stocked wardrobe. I groaned with annoyance as I thought of my well-stocked closet at home, where dozens of perfect dresses sat unobtainable.

'Miriam! I'm popping to a friend's for a bit.' I called down the stairs, where I could hear Miriam humming along to the radio in the kitchen.

'Ok dear.' Her voice floated back up to me. I pulled a jumper over my head and bounded down the stairs to the main fireplace. I tossed a handful of Floo powder into the fire and stepped in, enjoying the warm, tickling sensation as the emerald flames lapped at my feet.

'Edgecombe Manor!' I cried and closed my eyes tightly as I began to spin. I tumbled out of the grate at the other end onto the plush carpet of Marietta's sitting room, scattering soot over the cream floor. We had been friends during my time at Hogwarts, though we'd never been particularly close as her friend Cho had taken an instant disliking to me. What had brought me here was her wardrobe.

'Marietta?' I called to the silent house, hastily cleaning up the mess my arrival had made. Her house elf Twinks poked his head around the corner.

'The young mistress is upstairs Miss, Twinks will take you up.' I followed him up the wide staircase, wondering just who Mrs Edgecombe had gotten friendly with at the Ministry to get herself a job that could afford such a house. Glossy wooden floors and fluffy carpets were interrupted by exquisite pieces of mahogany furniture and smiling pictures of Marietta lined every surface in shining golden frames. I noticed in the pictures following her sixth year she was often shying away out of the shot, trying to obscure the bizarre formation of pimples on her face. I pushed open the door to her room and saw her sprawled across the large bed, a small grey owl perched on one of the bedposts as she read from a piece of parchment. She looked up as I entered and a smile spread across her face.

'Georgie!' She bounded across the room, red-blonde curls fluttering around her face which had now been restored to its pre-jinx glory (with a little help from St Mungo's). I laughed as she pulled me into a tight hug. 'It's been forever.' She said as she released me.

'It has. How are things at the Ministry?' I asked and she pulled a face.

'It's okay, but it's so boring. I've told Mummy I want to transfer to another department but she got all upset. I think she was hoping I'd take over from her when she retires. What are you doing these days, you're not living at home are you?'

'Oh you know, running Daddy's shops and stuff. I'm keeping busy as much as I can.' I answered smoothly, glossing over my current living situation. Marietta, while being lovely and having the best intentions, also had one of the biggest mouths in the wizarding world.

'Actually, I'm going to a ball tonight and I've left most of my dresses in France. I was wondering whether I could raid your wardrobe?' I continued quickly, distracting her from the topic.

'A ball! Oh wow! Sure, borrow what you like.' She flung open the doors to her walk-in wardrobe and started pulling out dresses. I stepped in beside her and flicked through the opposite rack, marvelling at the sheer amount of clothes she had.

'Yeah, I'm just going with a friend. It's been so long since I went to a good party, I couldn't pass up the opportunity.' I worked hard to keep my voice light and my tone breezy, not giving anything away.

'I know, I'm trying to talk Mummy into having a big New Year's Eve party but she's having the ballroom redecorated after Christmas and I don't think any magic in the world could make it ready on time.'

'How about this one?' I brandished a deep purple velvet dress with wide straps and a knee length hem. Marietta shook her head after a glance and I returned it to the rack.

'If you really want to wow people, I'd go with this one. I could never really pull it off, there's just too much red in my hair and it brings it out. Try it on.' She pushed the dress into my hands and left me to change. The dress was red satin with gossamer fine strands of gold worked into the material so it looked as if it had been dipped in fairy dust, unforgivably close fitting all the way down where it stopped a good five inches above my knees. I pulled it over my head and wiggled it down past my hips. The material clung to me like a second skin and showed only a hint of cleavage as I had so much leg on show. I slunk out of Marietta's oversized wardrobe and struck a seductive pose, leaning against the door frame.

'What do you thing, darrrrling?' I purred, tossing my hair about dramatically.

'It's perfect!' Marietta squealed, laughing as I stuck one hand on my hip and catwalk strutted across her room.

'I'll bring it back next week and let you know how it went.' I told her later, after one of Twinks' delicious hot chocolates and more mini Danish pastries than I should have be eating, having the world's tightest dress in my possession.

'It'll be so much fun!' She trilled as I climbed back into her fireplace.

Fun, I thought, well that's one word for it. Ordeal is the one I would have used.


	5. Chapter 5

The 7th of December rolled around faster than I had hoped and before I knew it I was eating lunch with Miriam before starting an intensive afternoon preparing for the night ahead. Butterflies threatened to prevent me from keeping my food down, and I took tiny bites to appease Miriam, who had scolded me for my lack of appetite.

'Are you nervous?' Miriam asked me asked she put a bowl of soup in front of me and levitated the bread board towards the table, clearing away the remains of my picked over sandwich with a swish of her wand.

'A little bit. I'm worried that people won't like me, or that I'll embarrass Oliver by saying something stupid I should know or that people won't believe that we're going to get married soon.' I mused, buttering a slice of bread.

'You'll be fine, the people on Oliver's team have always been nice when they've been here and I went to the after-match celebrations when they won the UK cup last year and it was mostly just like a Hogwarts Ball on steroids. They get a bit bigger but most of them are just overgrown kids.' Miriam laughed and I relaxed a bit. There was a moment of comfortable silence as Miriam sipped her tea. Oliver, as usual, was at practice and had been since the crack of dawn. How he didn't keel over with exhaustion mid-season was a mystery to me but he seemed to gain a weird kind of high from being on his broom that effectively replaced sleep.

'I'd probably better go and shower or I'll never be ready.' I said eventually and made my way upstairs. I indulged in a long shower, lathering my hair up twice in fruity shampoo and leaving my conditioner in for 10 minutes while I painstakingly shaved my legs, determined not to miss anywhere like I usually did. Over half an hour later and with only one little nick on the back of my knee I emerged in a cloud of steam from the bathroom, my wet hair ensconced in a towel to stop it dripping. Pulling on a fluffy bathrobe I tugged at the mass of hair with a hairbrush before retrieving my wand, previously abandoned on the bed, and produced a stream of hot air, twirling my wand as my hair dried to produce loose curls that hung down my back.

Pinning a few persistent strands out of my face I dusted powder down my nose and across my forehead, adding a shimmery blush to my cheeks. I'd never been one for wearing more makeup than a clown, though I did spend most of my third year at Hogwarts sporting an entirely disastrous shade of fuchsia lipgloss, so I stuck to a sweep of bronze eye shadow on each eyelid, a couple of swipes of mascara and slick of red lipstick. I played with my hair for a while, piling it on top of my head then pulling it all over one shoulder before finally twisting the top part of my hair away from my face in two slim braids knotted together at the back. The rest of my hair hung in heavy curls around my shoulders and streamed down my back.

Even if I wasn't confident about revealing my marriage to the world, at least I looked good.

I heard Oliver arrive back from training as I was shimmying into my dress.

'Georgie? I'm going to have a shower and then we need to go, okay?' He called as he ran up the stairs and down the corridor, skidding to a halt at my door and pushing it open a little.

'That's fine, I'm nearly ready. Can you just zip me up, I can't quite reach.' I said with my back to him as my fingers clutched in vain just above the bottom of the zip, unable to get hold of it. My hair hung forwards over one shoulder, exposing my bare back and I twisted my head around to see him motionless in the doorway, eyes fixed on my bare skin. The blood rushed to my cheeks and I giggled nervously.

'Oliver? My dress?'

'Oh… yeah.' He muttered and moved into the room. Warm hands, slightly calloused from playing Quidditch, brushed a stray curl off my bare back and slowly pulled up the zipper. His fingers lingered slightly at the top of my dress and ghosted up over my shoulder blades to rest lightly against the back of my neck before he pulled away.

'I should go and get ready myself.' He said, rubbing the hand that had made my skin tingle just seconds earlier through his dark hair and moving back towards my door. I started looking for my only pair of earrings, the tiny star-shaped gold studs I'd been wearing the day I left my house. All of my other jewellery I'd had to leave behind and at that moment I really could have done with some of it. Not to impress people with diamonds, but to convince myself I was still the same Georgianna Tattler who rocked society balls like she was born completely unable to embarrass herself. Pulling on a pair of black heels also on loan from Marietta, I grabbed my coat and made my way down the stairs, one hand clutching the stair rail as I tottered precariously in the high shoes.

'You look lovely.' Miriam smiled warmly at me as I entered the kitchen and I couldn't help but smile back, even with my building nerves repeatedly knotting and unknotting my stomach; suddenly I was quite glad I hadn't yet eaten.

'She really does.' Oliver's voice sounded behind me and I turned. I tried and failed to acknowledge that my heart was beating slightly erratically as I took in his impeccably tailored black suit, complete with a Puddlemere United tie, the blue and gold setting off his subtle tan and picking up on the honey coloured flecks in his brown eyes. The cut of his jacket and trousers emphasised his toned physique and I had to forcefully stop myself staring at him.

'You look pretty good yourself.' I managed, miraculously without stuttering. He smiled and offered me his arm, escorting me to the door where a sleek black car awaited us.

'It's on loan to the club by the Ministry, it'll get us to the stadium much faster than any other method of transport.' Oliver explained, opening up the back door and allowing me to slide in first. Miriam waved at us from the doorway, her large smile clear in the light form the car headlights as we swung around smoothly and started off down the driveway.

* * *

The stadium was lit up like a Christmas tree as we sat in the line of traffic waiting to get round to the front doors. A wide red carpet was lined by photographers, held back by magical golden ropes that didn't allow them to get too close to the people meandering towards the large doors. As we drew closer, my fingers twisted themselves round and round each other, until Oliver reached over and took my hand in his.

'I know this isn't really the best way to do this, but Mum reminded me just before we left; you don't have a ring.' He said, and I looked over at him. Digging his hand through the inner pocket of his suit jacket, he pulled out a tiny parcel of white cloth and pressed it into my hand. I delicately pulled apart the wrapping, revealing a square yellow diamond set on a white gold band. It glinted subtly at me in the dim light of the car and had the moment been different, more real maybe, I would have loved it. Oliver took it from my palm and pushed it onto the fourth finger of my left hand.

'It was my grandmother's ring. I wasn't sure whether you'd like it or not, I know it's not exactly a traditional diamond but I thought maybe…' He tailed off, his ears turning red and I smiled.

'It's beautiful Oliver, really. Thank you.' I curled my fingers around his and his eyes flickered up to meet mine. They were warm in the dim light and for a moment I could almost believe his happiness had been caused by my reaction. The air between us shifted slightly as his eyes held mine, invisible electricity crackling between us and his head tilted slightly towards mine before jerking away. Before I could dwell on the thought it was our turn to get out. I hastily removed my coat and abandoned it on the seat as Oliver assured me the driver would make sure it was taken to the cloakroom. The car door opened and Oliver slid out, holding out a hand to help me. The flashes of the cameras half-blinded me as we made slow progress down the strip of red carpet, posing for a few photos.

'Wood! Wood! How's the season going?!'

'Oliver, Witch Weekly wants to know if you're still single!? Hundreds of available witches await your answer!'

'Who's your date tonight Oliver? Which designer are you wearing honey?'

The shouts of the reporters came thick and fast until we were safely inside of the stadium doors. I wondered how many pictures of me were going to appear in the tabloids the following morning; I had forgotten just how popular Oliver was with rags such as Witch Weekly and how crazy they would go when he was seen out with women not on his Quidditch team or related to him.

Inside the stadium was decorated lavishly in blue and gold. We ascended a wide curved staircase to enter a room large enough to rival even the Great Hall in size – lined against the walls were tables groaning under the weight of the food heaped on them and a raised platform dominated the space at the end of a room where an orchestra played softly. We took our seats at one of the dozens of round tables dotted throughout the room, laid with empty plates and gleaming cutlery. The other four seats were still empty – for all of our rushing we had actually arrived a bit early.

'I'm just going to go and chat to some of our sponsors, I'll be as quick as I can.' Oliver pulled out my chair for me and then hurried off in the direction of several very old, suited men already holding glasses of Firewhisky and talking amongst themselves. I watched as a steady stream of glamorous people glided through the doors, all looking effortlessly put together and all seeming to know each other. My breath caught in my throat as I recognised the girl Oliver had brought back when he was drunk. Her long black dress hugged her slim body and was completely backless, a sleek auburn bob accentuating her long neck. I felt almost gaudy next to her in my little red dress and took large gulp of my drink. I focused hard on staring at the flower arrangement in the centre of the table, hoping if I avoided eye contact with everyone, especially _her, _I could go unnoticed until Oliver returned.

'Gerogianna Tattler, I presume?' The low, velvety voice could only have belonged to one person and I hoped to high heaven this didn't mean what I thought. I was sorely disappointed as Charley Clearwater dropped into the chair opposite me, long skirt swirling around her legs. I forced myself to smile at her, nodding once in acknowledgment, returning my attention to the Christmas roses in front of me.

'I saw you arrive with Oliver. Delicious, isn't he?' She ran her finger around the rim of her wine glass, producing a chalky, whining sound as she fixed her eyes determinedly on Oliver. The predatory glint in her gaze was unmistakable and she was practically drooling as she examined Oliver in his suit.

'I suppose he is.' I replied stiffly, also watching as Oliver shook hands with the many sponsors, all of whom seemed delighted to be in his company.

'I hear you two are getting hitched soon. Funny, Oliver has never seemed the commitment type to me.' She tore her eyes away from Oliver's backside and raised an eyebrow at me, smirking slightly.

'At the start of March. Oliver didn't want Quidditch to ruin our big day so we're waiting until the season is over. And I suppose he wasn't; it obviously just took the right woman to change his mind.' I could hear myself getting defensive and Charley's smirk grew more pronounced. I forced myself to take a deep breath, counting to 10 in my head to calm myself down. I reached for my own glass, deliberately flashing my ring at her as I lifted it to my lips. I looked back over at Oliver, who was gesturing towards the table as he spoke and let a soft smile rise on my features.

'It's going to be perfect.' I beamed and Charley's smirk slid off her face. She downed the contents of her glass and stood without a word, sashaying off in Oliver's direction. Before she had even reached halfway he passed her, heading towards me with a middle aged man who was sporting a slightly suspicious tan for December. I smiled at him as he bent down to kiss my cheek.

'Georgie, this is Harry Fletcher, our coach.' He said, gesturing to the man behind him.

'Nice to meet you.' I said as I stood and shook his hand.

'We've all heard so much about you Georgie, and I hear you're about to take our star off the market for good.' He smiled jovially at me and I relaxed for the first time since I had arrived.

'You're all invited of course, we're getting married as soon as the season finishes.' Oliver slid into the seat next to me as I sank back into my own and he topped up my glass, pouring himself a generous measure too.

Before we could continue chatting, a gentle ringing sound echoed through the room, announcing that the evening was starting officially and a plump man in a velvet tuxedo stepped out onto the stage at the end of the room.

'Ladies and gentlemen, welcome! As you know, Puddlemere United has been working hard during the start of this season, resulting in an unprecedented run of wins we hope will continue into the New Year. But for now, please, drink and have a good time and Merry Christmas!' There was a smattering of applause and the orchestra began playing again.

'Would you do the honour of dancing with me, Miss Tattler?' Oliver stood and offered me his hand, a cute half smile on his face. We were among the first few couples to gather on the dance floor and I could see Charley's sour expression as she sat at a nearby table, her date seemingly more interested in the girl next to him than her. I chuckled to myself as Oliver twirled me across the floor.

'What's so funny?' He murmured in my ear, making goose bumps rise on my skin.

'Nothing important.' I pulled my head back to look at him and found myself staring into the depths of his dark eyes. They flickered to my lips and back to my eyes and for a split second I thought he was going to kiss me; to my intense surprise I realised I wanted him to.

Instead he sighed deeply and spun me away from him, catching me firmly as I twisted back into him.

* * *

Several hours and nearly a whole bottle of mead later I was in the Ladies bathroom, running my wrists under cold water in an attempt to cool down. Oliver was being delightfully charming, having not left my side for the entire night. He had introduced me to all the important people there with adoration that was almost sincere, except for the fact he couldn't quite meet my eyes. His touch was slowly burning through my dress, setting my skin alight with a smoldering burn that was rapidly spreading to other areas. Maybe it was the mead, maybe it was the suppressed sexual tension between us or maybe it was simply the fact I hadn't had so much as a date in over six months, but suddenly Oliver had moved from the cute category into down-right sexy. And I wasn't sure how he'd done it. He still looked the same, still didn't speak in the morning before he'd had several cups of coffee, still left his sweaty Quidditch clothes to fester in his bag before Miriam discovered them and nearly shrieked with disgust and most importantly, still expressed his intense dislike for our impending nuptials. And yet, I still wanted him in the worst kind of way.

I grabbed my bag and banished such thoughts from my head. In the corridor, Oliver was leaning against the wall, waiting for me.

'Want to get some air? It's kinda hot in there and our Beater, Eric, just started a shot competition I really want to avoid.' I nodded wordlessly and started for the door. To my surprise, Oliver slipped his hand into mine as we went down the steps.

We walked silently through a maze of corridors until we emerged into the stands of the pitch. The grass stretched out before us in the dark, the floodlights highlighting the golden posts at either end. I let go of Oliver and pulled off my heels, skipping down the steps until I was wiggling my bare toes on the grass. When I reached the middle of the pitch I flung my arms out and spun in a slow circle, eyes fixed on the stars visible through the open roof of the stadium.

'I've never seen it this quiet before.' Oliver stood a few feet away from me, hands in his pocket as he watched me.

'It's beautiful.' I sighed. Oliver moved towards me slowly and then swept his arm into a bow.

'Dance with me?' He asked.

'There's no music.' I laughed but I reached for him anyway.

'I'll make the music.' He said and pulled me into him. This dance was much slower than the last and Oliver rested his head on my shoulder, humming tunelessly as we rotated in a tight circle.

'You're a sensational singer.' I giggled in his ear and he pulled away to look at me, a comically exaggerated look of hurt on his face.

'Miss Tattler, how you offend me! I'll have you know some of the best producers in the world fought for my amazing vocals and attention before I signed up to play Quidditch!' He dipped me suddenly and I flung my head back, laughing. When he brought me back up, our faces were much closer together. He was quiet now, his hand reaching up to brush the hair out of my face. I closed my eyes at his touch and took a sharp intake of breath as his fingers trailed down my throat to my collarbones. His other hand was slowly sliding from my waist down to my hips, continually inching lower. I curled my arm around his shoulders and inclined my head towards his, my eyes never leaving his.

His fingers curled into my hair as he pulled my face towards his and our lips met in a kiss that made so much sense when it shouldn't have. The slow burning that had been distracting me all night kindled into a proper flame and I clutched Oliver closer as his tongue slid into my mouth. He moved to kiss my jaw and then down my throat and back up again and I moaned almost inaudibly. Our hips shifted together on their own accord and I could feel he wanted this as much as I did.

'Want to get out of here?' He murmured against my lips and I nodded frantically, pressing the whole length of my body against his as we Disapperated.


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning! This chapter is the reason for the rating change to M. Please do not read if the content is offensive to you or if you are under the age of 18 years old.**

* * *

We Apparated into Oliver's lounge, my lips moving feverishly against his as we stumbled blindly in the direction of the stairs. Oliver slammed into the post at the bottom of the stairs, grunting deeply and then in one swift movement swung me up and over his shoulder into a fireman's lift. I shrieked with laughed as he carried me up two flights of stairs, tripping as he reached the top and sending me sprawling across the landing. I lay in a heap, gasping for breath between giggles as he leant on the top step. His gaze was dark and hungry as he shifted and began to crawl towards me, the flexing of the muscles in his forearms mesmerising me. His knees nudged between my legs and his torso hovered over mine as his soft lips trailed blazing kisses down the column of my throat and to the top of my dress, hands planted firmly either side of my head to support his weight. The moist, hot tip of his tongue traced the exposed curve of the top of one breast, his hips slowly lowering to meet mine. Re-tracing his path back up to my lips he captured them in another blazing kiss, one hand moving down my side to the curve of my waist before suddenly gripping my hip and hitching my leg up around his waist. Oliver groaned quietly against my mouth.

'I think maybe we should move to somewhere more comfortable.' I breathed and he pushed off of me, standing and pulling me up, moving in the direction of his room.

For a guy's room, it was surprisingly clean. No dirty clothes or stinky socks littered the cream carpet and I could see his bed was rumpled but made as he collapsed onto it, taking me with him. Turning to face me he pressed the gentlest kiss yet on my lips. The next was more forceful and the next still started the fire in my lower stomach roaring again. Grasping at the thin, crisp material of his shirt as he shifted over me, I yanked his tie from around his neck, abandoning it over the side of the bed and tearing at the buttons of his dress shirt. I ran my hands over the exposed tanned skin, marvelling at his smooth skin and the taut muscles underneath. I continued to pull at the buttons until his shirt hung open, exposing the defined muscles of his lower abdomen. I trailed my fingers down to feel them, following the fine trail of hair below his belly button to the waistband of his trousers and heard a sharp intake of breath. I looked up at Oliver, a grin spreading over my face as I took in his closed eyes, slack mouth and heavy breathing. I pushed his shirt off of his shoulders and he opened his eyes to look at me. In one fluid motion he flipped me over so I was straddled on his beautifully muscled stomach, the rough material of his trousers rubbing against the backs of my bare thighs, my dress bunched shamelessly up around my waist. Oliver pulled his arms free of his shirt and threw it across the room, then trailed the very tips of his fingers across the smooth skin of my legs. I praised myself highly for doing such a good job at shaving my legs as his hands slid higher until one finger slipped under the waistband of my lacy underwear. I breathed out a shuddering breath as he pulled the lace away from my skin and then let go, the elastic snapping back against my skin. I shifted slightly at the stinging sensation and he gripped my hips hard suddenly, holding me still as he groaned.

'You're making it very hard for me to behave myself, Miss Georgianna.' Oliver hissed out and he gripped the bottom of my dress, tugging it over my head and sending it to join his shirt. I became very aware I was virtually naked save for some strategically placed scraps of black lace and I felt my face heat up and was overwhelmed with the need to cover myself back up. This need was quickly forgotten when Oliver's hand moved to cup one of my breasts, his thumb teasing my nipple through the thin material. I tilted my head back to let out a breathy moan and he chuckled throatily. He moved to sit up so I was sitting in his lap, the evidence of his own arousal pressed between my legs and he bent his head to graze his teeth over my taut nipple. The electric sensation of it caused me to jerk my hips against him, and he stilled for a moment before taking a deep breath and moving to my other breast. Sliding the strap of my bra down my shoulder he tugged the lace cup down to expose my breast, his tongue flicking lightly over the rosy nipple. I moaned again and thrust my hand into his hair, pulling his face closer. I could feel his smirk against my skin and reached around to unclip my bra, becoming impatient with the speed he was going and in desperate need of relief from his teasing. Oliver stared in wonder for a moment at my naked torso and then claimed my mouth with his own, moving me underneath him. My fingers fumbled at the fastening of his trousers until they came undone and slid down his bare legs, revealing muscled thighs and taut calves and, funnily, red boxer shorts patterned with little golden lions.

'Nice pants.' I giggled and slipped my fingers into the waistband, letting them rest there for a second before gripping his erection and then stroking lightly to the base and back up again.

'You're going to kill me.' Oliver moaned against my neck and his hips rolled against mine. I gasped and pulled the boxers down over his hips. He kicked them off and began to kiss down my neck, across my collar bone and down between my breasts, stopping to place a swift kiss on both nipples before kissing down to my belly button, planting a circle of light kisses around it and gently biting the sensitive skin just above the waistband of my underwear, which he quickly divulged me of. Gripping my hips firmly to keep them still, he continued to move lower, his tongue probing the hot core of my body. I let out a louder moan and tried fruitlessly to move my hips.

'Behave please.' He murmured before sliding one finger between the slick folds and leaving it there as my inner muscles convulsed around it. Maintaining his hold on my hips with his other hand, he began to move his finger agonisingly slowly, pulling almost all the way out of my body and then sliding back in. Continuing this, his mouth moved to graze the little bud peeking out from its protective hood and tingling sensations rippled through my body.

'Oliver!' I gasped and clenched my hands in the bed sheets. His tongue replaced his finger while his thumb massaged the little button that was causing me such intense pleasure that my breath was coming out in large, uneven gasps and the tension in my lower abdomen was so great I thought I might explode. Oliver increased his pace and the tension crested and the released in a spiral of sensations that rocked through my body with impossible intensity. As they subside I realised I was repeating Oliver's name over and over, my head thrown back against the pillows. I looked down my body to see Oliver grinning between my legs and pulled at his shoulders until he rose up my body, his hip aligned with mine. In one smooth roll of his hips he slid all the way into me. My sensitive inner walls spasmed and stretched around him and he began to thrust, the friction creating delicious sensations even better than the ones that had just rippled through my body. He reached one hand to flick his fingers across my nipple before resting his hands on both sides of my head and increasing to a frenzied pace. His breath was hot against my cheek and I kissed him hard on the mouth as the electric feelings in my body began to build again. Oliver's thrusts became shorter, harder and his groans more frequent and my muscles clenched repeatedly around him until he exploded inside of me, whispering my name as the waves of my own release crashed through me, setting my nerve endings tingling. We lay for a moment in ecstatic silence, bodies still joined until my head cleared enough to think again.

Oliver rolled over to lie next to me, pushing his hands through his hair as he stared at the ceiling. My body felt heavy as he slipped an arm around my shoulders. The full realisation of what I had just done was pushing against my conscience in the back of mind but I ignored it.

'Oliver?' I asked quietly. There was no response, and I turned my head to see him asleep next to me, his expression one of complete contentment. I reached over to trace his dark eyebrows, the strong line of his nose and his chiseled jaw, running a finger lightly over his plump lips before snuggling into him and submitting to my own exhaustion.

* * *

My head was pounding and my mouth was so dry I could have happily drank the entire contents of the Black Lake in one go, Giant Squid be damned. I pressed my fingers against the closed lids of my gritty eyes, swore internally I would never touch Firewhisky again and then became startlingly aware of my lack of clothes. I lurched upright, pulling the sheet up around me as I surveyed the room. I was alone in a large double bed covered in white sheets, the indent in the other pillow confirming that I had not been as alone the night before as I was now. Thinking hard I gasped as I realised exactly where I was and who I had been sharing a bed, as well as other things, with. Wrapping myself in the sheet, I collected my clothes from the floor and tiptoed to the door. Pushing it ajar, I saw the landing was clear and ghosted across to the top of the stairs. I paused as voice sounded below me.

'I know it was stupid Mom, but it's happened now, I just need to move past it.' Oliver's low voice floated up the staircase to my ears.

'This is going to complicate things so much Oliver, how could you be so silly?' Miriam sounded reproachful and I dreaded having to see her later. From the little flashes of memory that were returning, the one thing that did stand out was that we hadn't exactly been quiet last night. I cringed and continued to listen hard.

'Look, I'll talk to her later. It was just an idiotic mistake, she knows I don't have those kinds of feelings for her, I just had too much to drink and unluckily she was there. I have to get to practice anyway; I'll be back later, okay?' Miriam muttered a reply and the loud crack signalled Oliver has Disapperated. I heard a deep sigh and then the sounds of Miriam moving into the kitchen. As the WWN started on the radio I quickly moved down the stairs and through the corridor to my own room, determinedly ignoring the disapproving stares of the portraits. I closed the door behind me and took a deep breath.

While I agreed that the situation hadn't been ideal as it was almost entirely alcohol-induced, I did not regret sleeping with Oliver. But clearly, he didn't feel the same. I pressed my cool hands to my hot cheeks and took several calming breaths before moving to the bathroom. I turned on the shower and lent against the cold tiles, Oliver's words swimming round and round my head.

_'…it was stupid…'_

_'…an idiotic mistake…'_

_'…I just had too much to drink…'_

_'…unluckily she was there…'_

A hot tear rolled down my cheek and I swiped angrily at it. Oliver Wood, I thought, was nothing more than a heartless, pumped up bag of lies and deception, and I would be party to his games no longer.

I nodded sagely to myself and reached for the shampoo.


	7. Chapter 7

I would be calm.

I would be collected.

I would be effortlessly good looking and flaunt it in Oliver's face.

I would pretend I didn't care.

I was going to be the best fake-fiancé on the planet and then I was going to leave with my dignity intact and go back to my life in London.

I was dressed in the prettiest outfit I still owned when Oliver got back, a fitted blue top tucked into a floaty black skirt, my waist emphasised by a delicate silver chain belt. I was sipping weak tea laced with one of Miriam's miracle cures, meant for flu but worked just as well for hangovers. Miriam glanced up from her stance at the sink as Oliver walked through the kitchen door.

'How was training?' She asked him as he shot an obvious glance in my direction and then looked away quickly.

'It was... good.' He said distractedly, dumping his bag on the floor and summoning a bottle of water. I watched, mesmerised, as he pulled off the cap and started gulping it down, his tanned skin gleaming with the efforts of his recent exertion. I shook myself internally and forced myself to look away.

'If you don't mind dears, I'm just going to pop out for a bit. Poor Augusta got into a bit of a pickle with some Baruffio's Brain Elixir and she's had to be admitted to St Mungo's so they can stop the swelling. Her cat needs feeding and I said I'd check on her greenhouse too, the Fanged Geranium does have a tendency to get antsy if it's left unwatered.' She smiled innocently and walked out, leaving behind a very heavy, very awkward silence.

'Feeling okay today?' I asked Oliver sweetly. He looked confused as he sank slowly into a chair at the table.

'Fine, I suppose. Coach is pushing us hard to do well in next week's match, there's no time to slack off because of a hangover.' The lines of confusion crinkling his forehead were surprisingly cute – I had to steel myself and not get distracted by them. I continued to smile at him as I finished my tea. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, obviously struggling to know what to say. I decided to take pity on him.

'Look Oliver, last night was a really stupid mistake. I guess we'd just had too much to drink and what can I say, I guess you were there in my time of need.' I stressed the last word and he blushed scarlet, seemingly not realising I was parroting his own words back to him. My irritation rose as I continued:

'I just forgot myself, forgot who I was there with. I'm so used to just letting go of my inhibitions and enjoying myself at those things, I really should have controlled myself better. I hope we can move on from this, I really do want to be your friend.' My smile felt frozen on my face as Oliver visibly relaxed opposite me. My heart plummeted a thousand feet at lightning speed as he smiled back at me, relief written across his face.

'I'd like to be your friend, Georgie.' He said softly, the big smile on his face that scrunched up his eyes bringing back the fluttering sensation in my tummy, the one I had thought had been brought on by a lethal mix of alcohol and sexual tension. Mid-hangover and post-sex, it was back.

'I need to go and shower, I stink.' Oliver laughed, standing up and moving towards the door. I forced a small laugh of my own as I watched him go, paralysed by the revelation dawning on me.

I was falling in love with Oliver Wood.

I was going to marry Oliver Wood in three months.

And Oliver Wood did not love me back.

* * *

I maintained a friendly, if somewhat detached, attitude towards Oliver for the next week. It helped that he was spending all of his time training like crazy for his match against the Tornadoes, meaning he was hardly ever in and when he was he was too tired to notice the cracks in my façade. I ate breakfast with him sometimes when I was awake before he left, I became a willing audience for him to test out explaining Quidditch plays to and I planned our wedding, trying to keep as many details of the event from him as possible; not so that it would be a surprise but because any mention of the wedding caused him to sink into a bad mood, with nothing but Quidditch able to pull him out of his funk.

Miriam, however, was not as easy to fool.

'It was just one of things Miriam. Me and Oliver are just friends, honestly.' I told her as I helped her fold laundered clothes on Friday. She looked sceptical but she didn't argue with me. We had avoided discussing the night of the Christmas Ball, mostly out of extreme embarrassment and partly because remembering the night cause me physical pain in my chest - brought on by the combination of the perfection of our intimacy and the callous, dismissive tone of Oliver's words the following morning.

'Oliver has got us box tickets for tomorrow. I thought you might like to see him play. This is his biggest match yet, he's been preparing for this for weeks.' I smiled weakly at Miriam as she spoke– I wanted nothing more than to see Oliver's muscled body clad in tight Quidditch robes on a broomstick, that was the problem.

'I suppose if he wants me to go…' I tailed off, hoping a way out would present itself.

'He does but more importantly, I want you to go.' Miriam said firmly, 'I hate going to those games alone, all that noise and bustle is enough to give an old woman a heart attack. You wouldn't leave me alone to battle through hoards of screaming fans to get to my seat, would you?' She snuck a side glance at me and I realised I was being emotionally blackmailed - successfully too.

'Fine, I'll go with you.' I sighed and she beamed at me.

'You're going to love it. Now these clothes here are yours, I'll put Oliver's away. I swear, when that boy moves out he'll have to have a house-elf, he's such a slob.' She tutted and moved towards the stairs while I giggled slightly, the secret of Oliver's abnormally clean room uncovered.

* * *

'Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Puddlemere United chasers: Clearwater! Harrow! Aaaaaaand – Spied!'

The chasers streaked out onto the pitch, clad in blue and gold. My eyes followed Charley Clearwater from my vantage point in the top box, watching as her slender form contorted as she played tricks for the crowd. The blue and gold uniform set off her vivid hair perfectly and the form-fitting robes displayed her greatest _assets_ perfectly. The material clung to her large breasts, highlighting the slenderness of her waist and elongated her already long legs. It was easy to see how Oliver had fallen for her charms.

'Arguably the best Beater duo in the Quidditch League: Clapham and Clapham!'

Eric, the one who started the drinking contest at the Christmas party, sped onto the pitch with his brother Mark. From this distance they looked absolutely identical, something that must have worked in their favour for confusing the opposition.

'Aaaaand finally I give you Puddlemere's newest player, Keeper Wood! Accompanied by Seeker and Captain, Dolsky!' The roars of the crowd swelled louder as Oliver and the Captain, a tiny girl with shiny brown hair, sped out. Her timid, girly appearance was entirely deceptive – she could drink like a trooper, had no problems controlling an unruly Quidditch team and had a long term girlfriend. She was one of the youngest Captains in professional Quidditch and one of the only female Captains in Europe.

In short, that girl seriously rocked.

The sound of the commentator announcing the rival team, dressed in white with sky blue accents, was lost on me as I focused my gaze on Oliver. His dark hair ruffled in the breeze as he zoomed around the goals, his expression one of complete focus. His sports robes emphasised the broadness of his shoulders and the tight trousers displayed his toned buttocks in a manner I almost deemed inappropriate, had I not been enjoying the view far too much to have any legitimate complaints.

A small, skinny wizard wearing black robes with a white trim strode out onto the field, carrying a large wooden crate under one arm. He blew his whistle sharply three times and pulled open the lid of the crate and four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and a flash of gold I could only assume was the Snitch.

'They're off!' Yelled the commentator. 'And Puddlemere takes possession of the Quaffle, its Harrow! Spied! Back to Harrow! To Clearwater – and there's an interception by the Tornadoes!'

This was Quidditch far beyond the level of Hogwart's school games. The players were inhumanly fast, throwing the Quaffle with such speed that the commentator barely had time to say their names before the ball was passed on.

'And Puddlemere regain possession!' The three chasers in blue bore down the pitch at high speed. Charley Clearwater, in possession of the Quaffle, made as though to dart upwards, confusing the defending Tornadoes Chaser and dropped the Quaffle to Harrow. As he closed in on the goals, Eric swung hard at a Bludger, causing the Tornadoes Keeper to sloth roll to avoid being hit. Harrow took advantage of his distraction and hurled the Quaffle towards the goals.

'HARROW SCORES! 10-0 to Puddlemere!' The commentator yelled excitedly as the stadium thundered with applause and cheers.

I knew enough about Quidditch to know that the Tornadoes were amazing but that Puddlemere was better, a result of all the hard work they had been putting in so far in the season. They worked together smoothly as a team and within 20 minutes had scored another 3 times. Miriam danced with delight in the plush seat next me at each goal, a proud smile spread across her face.

As the match wore on, the tactics became dirtier. The Clapham twins were whacking Bludgers fiercely at the Tornadoes Chasers and were managing to prevent them from using their best moves, until finally a Tornado Chaser slipped past them and managed to dodge Oliver, scoring the Tornadoes first goal of the match. Their supporters at the far end of the stadium rose in a mass of sky blue and white, celebrating loudly.

Oliver's face was nearly purple with anger and I could see his stern expression even being so far away from him. His style of playing became more forceful; he punched and kicked away the incoming Quaffle with such force I was surprised the ball didn't explode. After another hour of frantic playing, during which Spied had his nose broken by a Bludger, Charley committed three fouls, Oliver blocked all of the subsequent penalty shots and the Chasers managed to score several more times, a collective scream range out through the stadium.

The two seekers, both blurs of colour they were moving so fast, were speeding towards the Puddlemere goalposts, arms outstretched. A tiny glint of gold danced around Oliver's ankles and in a sickening moment I realised what was about to happen. The Seekers collided into Oliver and the goalposts, falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs and brooms. I didn't realise I was on my feet until I felt the gentle pressure of Miriam's hand on my elbow, stopping me from falling out of the box by leaning to far over. The figures on the ground stirred feebly as the medics rushed over and the players in the air hung still, all watching their teammates below, the Quaffle abandoned. As the figures were taken of the pitch by levitated stretchers the commentator tentatively spoke.

'I have just been informed that the Puddlemere Seeker Dolsky has caught the Snitch. Puddlemere wins!' The stadium was silent in shock for a moment and then a slow rumble spread through the stands, building into a raucous chorus of excited cheers and jubilant shrieks of victory. I dodged celebrating fans as I raced down the steps after Miriam, heading for the medic room.

Oliver was lain out on a bed, curtained off from the other players. Anna Dolsky was holding a bloody towel to her mouth, the glinting Snitch still clutched in her fist. The Tornadoes' seeker was motionless on the other bed, seemingly having been knocked unconscious.

'Oliver! Are you okay?!' Miriam's voice was verging on hysterical as she descended on him. His face was pale with pain as he clutched his ankle.

'I'll be fine Mum, it's a shattered ankle. Some Skelegrow and a few hours in bed and I'll be good as new.' His smile was more of a grimace but Miriam seemed calmer. She sank into the chair next to him. A Medi-wizard in green robes bustled over, holding a goblet of steaming liquid.

'This I just something for the pain, Mr Wood, and we'll send you home with a dose of Skelegrow. Take it just before you go to bed and your bones will have healed by the morning. We do suggest you spend the day in bed tomorrow, just as a precautionary measure in case your bones are not as strong initially.' He handed Miriam a flask, watched as Oliver downed the contents of the goblet and cleared him to go. As he rose from the bed, I moved forwards to take his weight.

'I'll Apparate him home Miriam, we'll meet you there.' She nodded gratefully; she would have been unable to help him stand let alone transport him home.

I pulled Oliver closer to me as Miriam Dis-apparated away. His eyes were drooping as the painkillers made him sleepy and he sighed gently, wrapping his arm more securely around me into a warped half-hug. I locked my arms in place and Apparated, hoping the uncomfortable, breath-taking squeezing sensation wouldn't have any adverse effects on Oliver.

I staggered heavily as we landed in the lounge, Oliver pale and now unconscious next to me. Miriam hurried forward, wand aloft to levitate him up the stairs. His limp form gently navigated the three flights of stairs and I hurried up after Miriam, grabbing the flask of Skelegrow.

'I'm going to go and lock up, will you make sure he drinks this?' Miriam whispered to me as she edged back out the door. I nodded and moved towards the bed. The mere sight of it made me blush and I was glad Miriam had left, sparing me any awkward moments.

'Oliver?' I muttered, leaning over his sprawled form. He grunted in response.

'Oliver, you need to take this, remember?' There was no response so I set the flask down on his bedside table and gripped his shoulders, forcing him into a sitting position. His eyes fluttered open, glazed over with sleepiness and Pain-Ease potion. He smiled sweetly at me and my heart fluttered in my chest.

'You look cute when you're worried.' He mumbled, reaching for the flask. I was silent as I watched him drain the contents of it, unsure of how to answer. He pulled a face as he passed it back to me.

'Nasty stuff.' Oliver shuddered and I stood to leave.

'No, stay Georgie. Please.' He protested and I turned. He was half asleep already, one arm stretched out towards me. I sank down onto the edge of the bed and he wrapped his fingers around mine.

'You need to go to sleep Oliver, before the stabbing pains kick in.' I told him gently, pushing the hair off his face. He leaned into my hand and sighed.

'I wish things were different Georgie. I wish I could have taken you on a date. You could have dressed up all pretty, we could have gone to Madame Puddifoots and done all that other mushy crap…' He tailed off, eyes closing and in a couple of minutes he was snoring softly.

* * *

Leaving Oliver sleeping soundly the following morning, Miriam and I decided to start the Christmas shopping. Wrapping myself in a thick coat and knitted scarf, I prepared myself to face the icy weather and descend upon Diagon Alley.

The Leaky Cauldron was packed to the rafters with people avoiding the cold. I was squeezing past the packed table, Miriam in tow when a voice called across the bar.

'Georgie!' Anna Dolsky, captain of Puddlemere United was sitting in a corner booth, accompanied by a willowy blonde. She waved me over and I changed direction. Miriam smiled warmly at her when we reached their table, giving both a hug. Anna introduced her girlfriend, Sophia, and insisted we join her for a drink.

'How's Oliver, Georgie? That was a nasty break he got yesterday.' Anna asked, concern creasing her pixie-like features.

'He's fine, dosed up on Skelegrow and sleeping it off. How're you anyway? That was a nasty fall for all of you.' I asked, examining her unaltered features as I sipped my Butterbeer and allowed delicious warmth to spread through my cold body.

'I'm fine; I'm still alive so it was nothing major.' She waved her hand dismissively, laughing. 'Do you fancy another drink?'

'Actually we've got some shopping to do.' I answered and after a few more minutes of chatting we left, entering Diagon Alley. The street was heaving with witches and wizards bundled up in heavy cloaks against the cold. Shop windows gleamed brightly as we made our way down the street to join the queues of people waiting to get to their gold in Gringotts. We joined the line behind two young witches, too busy gossiping to notice us.

'…my friend Penelope, her sister is on his Quidditch team, Puddlemere. Apparently he's marrying this heiress girl who's shown up out of the blue. He took her to the Christmas party and nobody had seen her before.' One said to the other, her voice anything but quiet. Miriam glanced at me quickly, her lips thinning into a pale line.

'I thought Penelope's sister was getting on that? Didn't she have like, a three year plan or something?' The other replied.

'Yeah she did, she said it was working too. Worst case scenario she was going to fake a pregnancy and get herself hitched that way. I guess she's pretty pissed now this rich bitch has rocked up and taken the coveted bachelor Oliver Wood off the market, he is one hot piece of ass.' I had to restrain Miriam from interrupting them, and possibly slapping both of them across the face.

'Miriam, it's not worth it.' I hissed under my breath. Her lips were pale and strangely at odds with the rest of her face, which was flushed with anger. The girls in front of us moved towards the desk of a goblin at the end of the row and I tentatively let go of Miriam's arm.

'How dare they!' She fumed as we waited to be called. 'And that Charley Clearwater had better hope she doesn't find herself in my presence anytime soon! As if Oliver would ever marry such a horrible girl.' I stayed quiet, my indignation at Charley's plans churning my stomach.

Finally we were called towards the desk. The swarthy goblin inspected our keys suspiciously and then led us towards a cart. I clutched Miriam's hand tight as we sped through the twisting tunnels, my breakfast threatening to reappear as we screeched to an abrupt halt.

'Vault 743.' The goblin grunted and swung himself off the cart. Miriam followed, pulling her key out of her pocket and inserting it in the lock. The door clicked loudly twice and then swung open, revealing piles of gold and silver, family heirlooms stored in cases or glass cabinets and what looked suspiciously like a solid gold suit of armour resting at the back. I tried not to stare as Miriam scooped coins into a leather bag; luxurious house aside, Oliver and his mother lived modestly – they didn't spend loads on expensive food, Miriam certainly didn't wear high-end robes and I knew that Oliver has more socks with holes in than without. The concept of having money but not spending it was foreign to me – my father had spent most of my childhood lavishing gifts on me to make up for the fact he wasn't really around.

When we pulled up at my personal vault, the one that contained my inheritance from my mother and nothing that had come from the business or my father, I glanced at Miriam. She was tactfully digging through her handbag, looking for some lost item I suspected didn't really exist. I opened the door to my vault and nearly cried. A small pile of Sickles sat in the middle, with a handful of Knuts and a single Galleon next to it.

'Where has all the money gone?!' I asked the goblin hysterically, the blood draining out of my face at an alarmingly rapid speed.

'Lawyer's fees.' He replied maliciously, a grin on his face.

'I'm supposed to be paying for my wedding soon.' I replied, my voice high pitched and rising in volume. The goblin said nothing, so I put the remaining money into my purse and shut the door behind me, the sound echoing through the empty vault. I said nothing to Miriam as we journeyed back to the surface, internally worrying about how I was going to pay for Christmas presents, let alone fund my romantically fictional but financially real wedding.

'So where do you want to start dear? I need to get a couple of books from Flourish and Blotts, and Oliver requested a couple of things from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes…' Miriam started as we left the bank.

'Actually Miriam, I need to run a couple of errands myself, do you mind if I meet you at the Weasley's shop in about an hour?' She agreed, thankfully, and wandered off in the opposite direction. With a sigh, I turned and headed for the ever busy Quality Quidditch Supplies, hoping Cormac McLaggen would be in a good mood today and not try to grope my ass.


	8. Chapter 8

The familiar tinkling of the bell as I opened the door of Quality Quidditch Supplies announced my arrival. I scanned the busy shop, searching for Cormac amongst the excited 11 year old boys admiring the racing brooms, the teenage girls pretending to be looking at Quidditch robes while casting frequent glances at the group of teenage boys throwing a Quaffle around and laughing loudly. I rolled my eyes and made for the desk at the back.

'Well, well, well. If it isn't the Dowager Princess herself, come back to tour her fallen kingdom.' Cormac grinned at me as I approached. The badge attached to his robes declared 'Manager' in large gold letters and I had to force myself not to glare at him and rip it off.

'Look, McLaggen, I'm really not in the mood.' I signed, fingering the zip on my light money bag. 'I need you help... I need some money.' I said quietly.

'Money?! Little Miss Have-It-All needs money? I never thought I'd see the day.' He snorted. I stared at him, keeping my face perfectly blank.

'I know it sounds unbelievable, trust me, but I've got no access to any of the money being made here, or any of the money in Dad's account and my own money has all gone.' I replied, balling my hands into such tight fists my nails started to cut painfully into my palms. Cormac glanced around the busy shop and then motioned for me to follow him into the office out the back.

Nothing had changed. My father's large leather chair sat behind the desk, where piles of paper covered the surface and a picture of myself at age 5 in a ballet tutu and a tiara twirled in a frame on the wall. Cormac plonked himself down in the chair and ran his hands through his hair.

'Look Georgie, to be honest with you this place isn't making as much money now your Dad isn't running it and I don't want to be saddled with this place for good, I was hoping to move away from London eventually. I can't give you any money from the business, I'm not allowed to, but I can loan you some myself and then when you're back on your feet you can pay it me back.' I smiled gratefully at him as he wrote me a check.

'Thank you so, so much Cormac, I'll pay it you back with interest as soon as I get all my stuff released.' He smiled and held it out to me.

'I do have one other condition though.' He said as I reached for the cheque.

'What?' I asked warily, a frown creasing my forehead.

'Go on a date with me.' He replied.

'No way!' I said indignantly. My last date with Cormac had been when he just started working for my father and it had been a disaster – he spent the entire evening talking about himself, helping himself to my chips and hogging our 'shared' dessert. He'd then suggested we split the bill and tried to invite himself back to mine for 'coffee'.

'Hear me out – last time was awful, I know but I promise you'll have a good time. And if you don't, I'll never ask you again.' I studied his face carefully and detected no signs of deceit or sarcasm.

'Fine.' I relented. 'Owl me in the week, we'll sort something out.' He grinned at me and handed over the cheque. I stuffed it in my bag and left, trying not to think about whether or not I'd just let myself be bought.

I cashed the cheque in at Gringotts and started shopping. I browsed Madam Malkin's for a while, gazing longingly at the gorgeous robes and dresses in festive colours and I had to physically force myself to walk away from a deep blue dress with a matching robes. I eventually found a dark purple witch's hat for Miriam, decorated with delicate silver swirls. It was a little dressier than anything I had seen her in before so I picked out some matching robes and completed the outfit with an amethyst pendant on a long silver chain. Madam Malkin had an ecstatic field day when I approached the counter with my pile of goods, and garbled happily to me about how exciting the festive season was and how beautiful the colour of the robes would look in the glowing light of fairies on the Christmas tree as she wrapped my purchases.

Oliver was a little harder to buy for. I traipsed around Diagon Alley, peering into shop windows then dismissing the contents almost immediately. Oliver owned so little in the way of actual possessions I had no idea what he liked, except things to do with Quidditch. Deciding to focus on that, I ducked into Flourish and Blotts just as tiny snowflakes started to swirl gently around me and settle on the cobbled pavement. I wove through the towering stacks of books, smiling at the harassed shoppers bustling around with children in tow until I reached the small corner at the back dedicated to sports. I discarded 'Great Quidditch Players of the 20th Century', having previously seen a battered copy peeking out from underneath Oliver's bed and instead picked up the biography of Darren O'Hare, Keeper and Captain of the Kenmare Kestrals in the 1950's and famous for his skill and dedication to the sport. I also knew the Kestrals had been Oliver's childhood team and grinned down at the scarred, weather beaten face of the man on the cover, pleased with my find.

I picked up a few sparkly bits of jewellery from the Twilfitt and Tatting's new gift line and wandered towards the brightly painted beacon that was Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Miriam was already stood outside, chatting to Verity, George's employee, who was clad in the unfortunate uniform of magenta robes and looked exhausted. She had been a few years above me in Hogwarts, a popular but straight laced Hufflepuff who wouldn't have dared to pull off any of the pranks she was now selling.

'Hi Verity.' I smiled as I reached them She smiled back at me weakly, the bright robes doing little to distract from the purple bags under her eyes.

'Verity was just telling me how good business is going for George.' Miriam told me, gesturing towards the violently colourful window displays.

'It's more than good business, we can't keep up! Even with Mr Weasley's brother coming to work with him, there just isn't enough pairs of hands. Mr Weasley takes on Hogwarts students over the summer but at this time of year, things just get crazy.' Verity shook her head ruefully and then said her goodbyes, hurrying through the thickening snow towards the Leaky Cauldron for what I suspected was a much needed Firewhisky.

'Did you get everything you needed? I've already bought some things from here but we can go in if you want to?' Miriam asked and I shook my head and showed her a couple of my purchases, carefully manoeuvring the bag of her presents in-between the others so she wouldn't see it. We Apparated home, the shop too busy for us to catch George for a quick chat.

At home, Oliver was sprawled across the sofa reading the Daily Prophet. He looked up as we walked in and I was glad to see his face had regained some of its colour. I avoided meeting his gaze in case he remember what he'd said to me before he passed out but thankfully he seemed blissfully unaware of the heartache he was causing. Lifting his torso off the sofa he accepted a hug from Miriam before sinking back against the cushions.

'Skelegrow hurts like a bitch.' He groaned, reaching down to massage his ankle.

'Language!' Miriam reprimanded, tutting as she went into the kitchen and started to boil the kettle. Oliver grinned sheepishly at me as I settled myself onto the end of the sofa.

'Shopping sounds like such a lovely idea until you start.' I moaned, pulling my boots off my throbbing feet. Oliver laughed, sat up straight and pulled my poor feet into his lap, expert fingers massaging them into blissful submission.

'I wouldn't know, I don't usually do much of it.' He chuckled.

'I won't hold much hope for my Christmas present then.' I teased.

'Now you're definitely getting coal.' He laughed, tickling the sensitive underside of my feet. I squealed and writhed out of his gasp, sliding off the sofa to land in a heap on the floor. Miriam returned with two mugs of tea and raised her eyebrows at me as she placed them on the low coffee table. I smothered my giggles and picked up my cup, inhaling deeply and taking small sips of the scalding brew. Miriam turned on the radio and we sank into a comfortable silence listening to the humorous commentary of Lee Jordan on the WWN.

* * *

Three days later, Oliver was perfectly recovered and back to training like a maniac, convinced his absence for a couple of days would cost them the league. Between us, Miriam and I transformed the house into a festive wonderland; every surface was covered with winter flower arrangements, Christmas ornaments and a towering 7ft Christmas tree stood in the lounge, waiting to be decorated. Oliver returned home from training on Thursday and enlisted my help in finding the decorations.

'Make sure you hold that ladder tight!' He called down to me, his head having vanished into the dark attic hatch.

'Oliver, there's this surprising thing called magic that I have that means if you fall, I might actually be able to catch you before you hit the ground, or at least knock you out so you won't feel it when you land.' I called back cheekily. He laughed and then hoisted his body up into the attic. Light bloomed in the dark space and I quickly following him up. Castle Rock Lodge had an attic the size of the average ballroom. Neatly arranged (I suspected due to Miriam) files and old books sat on shelves on the stone walls and old furniture was covered in pale dust sheets. Oliver started sifting through the many boxes, looking for ones containing the Christmas ornaments.

'They should be quite close to the opening, we don't really move much else up here.' He said to me and I started opening the boxes nearest to me. Old robes, adorned with yellowing lace sat in one, a collection of small portraits in another. In the third box I opened, I found Gryffindor Quidditch robes in various sizes and a large sheet with a golden lion painted onto it. A battered Quaffle rested in the bottom of the box. I pulled it out and rolled it between my hands. The surface was scratched, the leather cracked and ripped and an illegible date was stamped on the surface.

'That's the Quaffle from my last game, when Gryffindor won. It was really down to Potter, that game, it's such a waste he hasn't gone professional.' Oliver appeared beside me, the right box of Christmas things tucked under his arm. He took the Quaffle and spun it on the tip of his finger, a soft smile on his face as he remembered his school glory days. I folded the robes back into the box and levitated it down to the landing, the box of decorations following. Oliver quickly descended the ladder and I followed, gripping the cold metal bars as the ladder wobbled precariously. Warm hands gripped me around the waist and lifted me down the last few steps. Oliver smiled at me, his face close to mine as I turned to face him. His eyes flickered rapidly from my eyes to my lips and the warm, bubbly feeling in the pit of my stomach returned. I started to lean in before remembering the promise I had made to myself: keep it a business arrangement. Oliver's harsh words echoed in the back of my head and I ducked away from him, picking up a box and escaping down the stairs.

* * *

The Christmas tree was a glorious blaze of gold and silver baubles, blooming red flowers, pine cones coated in glitter and twinkling fairies nestled amongst the branches, their gentle glow bathing the room in soft light. An enormous golden star topped the tree, the top point just barely avoiding grazing the ceiling. After dinner that evening, when the fire had all but died out and the clock chimed 10 I sat with a cup of warm cocoa and watched the fairies moving about the tree, baubles quivering as they moved past them. Oliver sat with a book in his lap and Miriam was fast asleep in an armchair. I smiled to myself – without trying, these people felt a lot more like family to me than my real family ever had.


	9. Chapter 9

In what felt like a blink of an eye, it was the eve of Christmas Eve. Marietta had invited Oliver and I to her annual Christmas Eve party, and he had agreed to go with me and play the part of a doting husband-to-be. Surveying my wardrobe, I pulled out a black dress with a fitted waist that flared out into a full skirt, hanging on the front of my wardrobe and arranging festive red heels and sparkly jewellery to go with it. Marietta invited some of our old Hogwarts friends to her party every year and it was fun to see how people were getting on, who had got married or divorced and who had suffered unfortunate weight gain or a bad haircut. I didn't explain that bit to Oliver, fearing he would take it as a sign I really was the spoiled shallow socialite he had presumed I was when we first met – I wasn't really, but when girls get together they get bitchy and judgemental, particular when there is Gillywater involved. As a male, Oliver would never understand the complex inner workings of the female universe, so why try to explain them to him?

I wandered down the hall past the snoozing portraits and climbed the stairs to Oliver's room. Leaning against the door frame, I watched him lying on his bed, flicking through a copy of _Quidditch!, _the invitation to Marietta's party resting face down under an empty mug on his bedside table.

'You know you don't have to go tomorrow if you don't want to.' He jumped slightly when I spoke and looked over to where I was standing.

'No, I'll come. People will think it's weird if I don't.' I nodded slightly, disappointed that was the only reason he was going.

'Marietta said she's invited mostly Ravenclaws so we'd better represent our side well.' I joked feebly and he smiled briefly before turning back to his magazine; my irritation flared. Whatever affection or friendship Oliver showed towards me came in waves, and right now I was on the underside of this one, probably due to my pulling away instead of kissing him a few days previously.

'Well wear something smart.' I snapped at him, before turning on my heel and leaving. I wandered down to the kitchen and started making a drink. I was two sips in before I realised I'd forgotten to add my teabag and all I was drinking was hot water and milk. I ran my hands through my messy hair and sighed.

* * *

Mariette had hired out a trendy new bar in wizarding London, in a new magical community south of Diagon Alley and its traditional shops, to host her Christmas party in. Oliver and I apparated into an empty car park in Muggle London nearby and walked in silence towards the venue. My heels clicked loudly on the damp pavement and I wrapped my arms around myself, my coat doing little to protect me against the sub-zero December chill. Oliver shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers, his face expressionless. We looked more like a married couple on the brink of divorce, not misty eyed lovebirds about to get married. I sighed and reached out to pull him to a stop.

'Look, I think you should go home. It's pretty obvious to anyone looking at us that you don't want to be anywhere near me and the last thing I need is some nosy Ravenclaw genius figuring out I'm being forced to marry you because of the new laws and tipping the Ministry off.' He stared at me for a long moment after I spoke and then looked away, pushing his hand through his ruffled hair.

'I do want to be here, I'm just… I wish there wasn't so much pressure to pretend.' He replied.

'Well don't worry about it, I'll be out of your hair for good in a few months' time and then you'll never have to pretend again.' I snapped and started walking off. He followed slowly but neither of us spoke again. I fumed internally – just what was he playing at? Trying to kiss me one minute then basically telling me he wished I wasn't there the next. Oliver Wood was becoming my own personal, irritating headache. Not to mention the growing part of me that just wanted to give in and let him trample all over my poor heart in exchange for a few short months of happiness was growing harder and harder to ignore.

The party would have been amazing in any other circumstances. Waiters wandered through the crowd handing out glasses of colourful cocktails that tasted differently to each individual, and swarms of fairies fluttered close to the ceiling, equipped with sprigs of mistletoe and a seemingly endless stream of pretty gold dust that melted into the air before it could reach the noisy throng of guests below but gave the illusion of a gold mist hovering above us. Oliver had peeled off in the direction of the bar as soon as pleasantries had been exchanged, leaving me to fend of Marietta's questions unaided.

'I still can't believe you bagged yourself Oliver Wood! A professional Quidditch player!' She squealed in my ear, grabbing another glass from a passing tray. I smiled, trying to act as if I felt just as lucky as she thought I did, and not at all like I wanted to find Oliver and throttle him for being such a prick. As the clock inched closer to midnight, the crowd swelled and even I couldn't resist the excited atmosphere, though the endless stream of cocktails probably helped put me in the party mood. Marietta and I wove through the dancing crowd until we were in the centre of the room. The dance floor was sunk in the middle of the room, with steps ringing it that led up to the bar counters and seating areas for those too inebriated or too miserable to dance. I glimpsed Oliver resting against the bar, a glass of something dark and potent looking in his hand, his eyes fixed on my progress through the crowd. I caught his eye and then looked away, throwing myself into the celebrations so he would see even his bad attitude couldn't ruin my evening. I delightedly embraced old friends I hadn't seen since Hogwarts; Cho Chang was sporting a neat baby bump, her muggle husband at home with their twins. Anthony Goldstein had come with Terry Boot, both of them now proudly out of the closet and talking of moving to Italy to promote equality for gay and lesbian witches and wizards in more traditional magical communities. Cordelia Grifford made a big show of hugging me and telling me how much she had missed me, the incident where she stole my boyfriend in 6th year seemingly forgotten to her. I had just finished another drink when said ex-boyfriend appeared, seemingly from nowhere.

'Georgie!' Exclaimed Roger Davies, his tanned arms reaching out to pull me into him for a close hug. He had retained his good looks - almost femininely pretty, Roger had shiny dark hair that brushed his shoulders, dark blue eyes framed by lush lashes and cheekbones most models would kill for.

'How've you been?' He asked me, guiding me up the steps and towards some of the seats.

'Good! Busy.' I replied, sinking into the soft cushioned bench gratefully, my head starting to feel thick and heavy.

'I can imagine, what with you Dad's business doing so well. I was sorry to hear about him, by the way, I sent an owl to your house but my letter came back unopened.' He settled himself next to me, slinging an arm around my shoulders, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of my shoulders gently.

'I'm not living there at the moment, I'm staying with... a friend.' I cast a guilty glance in the direction where Oliver had been, only to find he had vanished.

'Well if you ever need somewhere else to stay, my door is always open for you.' He smiled charmingly at me and I giggled girlishly, feeling the effects of my drinks more strongly now I was seated.

'I'll remember that.' I mumbled, tipped my head back to rest against the back of the sofa and closing my eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion. Stars danced behind my eye lids and the loud music throbbed through my body. I was absolutely, completely drunk and I had an hour to go until midnight came and I could slink off home and sleep it off.

'You okay?' Roger's voice was deep and velvety and so close to my ear his breath tickled my face. I laughed and squirmed at the sensation, keeping my eyes closed.

'I'm fine.' I breathed, my head feeling heavier and heavier.

'You're more than fine, Georgie, you're the most gorgeous girl in the room.' He laughed and I felt him moving off the seat. 'Come on, you need some fresh air.' He pulled me up and half steered, half carried me through the crowd of people and out the door. I took a few deep gulps of cold air and felt a smidgen of my sanity return, moving to lean on the railings that marked where the queue would have been on a normal night.

'Feeling alright?' Roger asked and I nodded. To my dismay, I then started to cry, tears rolling silently down my cheeks, hot against my chilled skin.

'No, not really. Not at all, actually. I'm being made to marry someone who hates me, I'm not supposed to tell anyone about it, I barely see any of my friends, I have no family and you know what the worst part is? I just want to go home and sort my life out and move on but I'm not allowed to and I won't be allowed to until three years' time, by which time everyone I know will be married and have adorable children and they'll all want to play matchmaker, they'll turn it into the 'Who Can Find Georgie A Husband' game and I'll have to go on a carousel of dates with awkward cousins, socially-challenged work mates and over-weight brother-in-laws suffering premature balding and a mid-life crisis's.' I wailed, hiccupping intermittently. I balled up my fists and pressed them into my temples. Roger slipped his arm around my shoulders and gently pulled me into a hug.

'Oh Georgie.' He murmured in my ear, then pulled back to look at me. He swiped his thumb over the tear tracks on my face and then pushed a stray curl behind my ear. His face inched closer and closer to mine until I could count the freckles on his nose and see each of his long, dark eyelashes as his eyes closed. Soft lips pressed gently against my own for a long moment before the movement became more frantic, and Roger's hand pushed into my hair, locking my face against his. Through the gradually clearing haze of alcohol-fog I started to realise what was happening and tried to pull away. Roger seemed to take this as a sign of encouragement, as he responded even more enthusiastically, his other hand sliding to the curve of my waist, pressing against the small of my back so my body was flush against his. I made an audible squeak of protest and pushed hard against Roger's chest.

'Don't resist it Georgie, we both know this is right.' He breathed against my skin, wet lips pressing against my neck.

'If you don't get off me Roger I swear to god I will-'

'What? Scream?' He interrupted, laughing. 'Everyone is inside, dancing to very loud music. Come on Gee, we had a great time together, you know that.'

'Until you cheated on me. With my friend!' I hissed through gritted teeth, twisting my head as far away as I could in my current position. He simply chuckled and touched the tip of his finger to my bottom lip, tracing the outline. My anger mounting, I jerked my head forward and bit his finger, hard. He yelled in surprise and jumped away from me, staring in disbelief at his red finger. I glared at him, folding my arms across my body to hide my trembling hands.

'You little bitch!' He spat at me and took a step forward, injured hand curled into a fist and raised as if he was going to hit me. I took a step back and stumbled slightly, fear coursing through my body.

'I wouldn't do that if I were you.' A cool voice cut through the cold air. Leaning casually against the wall by the door stood Oliver, his collar and tie loosened.

'Oh yeah? And what is it to you if I do?' Roger sneered, looking Oliver up and down with contempt.

'I think you'll find anyone who harms my fiancée will find themselves in the long stay ward at St Mungo's before they can say _Stupify._' Oliver moved away from the wall and sauntered towards us. I stood, frozen in place as he stopped a couple of feet in front of Roger. His height and burly Quidditch-player frame gave him a physical advantage that could not being ignored and I could tell Roger felt intimidated. He took several steps away from us, a little too fast for them to be as calm as he was intending.

'She's not worth this, man, you can have her.' He started to turn away and the tense line of Oliver's shoulders relaxed somewhat.

'She doesn't put out anyway, the frigid tease.' He added. Oliver, who had started to move towards me, froze and spun slowly on the spot. There was a moment of heavy tension before Oliver took two large strides forward, raised his fist and slammed it into Roger's face. Blood spurted from his nose and he collapsed to his knees, hands cupping his face as he cried out with pain. I moved towards Oliver and he stretched his hand out towards me. In a split second the crushing sensation of Apparation engulfed me and my feet slammed into a different pavement. I staggered slightly and then my stomach caught up with me and I puked neatly into the gutter. Apparating when drunk was always risky business.

'Are you okay?' He asked, hands gripping my wrists as his eyes roamed quickly over me, searching for injuries while steering me away from the road.

'I'm fine… I think.' I mumbled, still drunker than I would have liked to have been. Oliver seemed to realise this and rolled his eyes.

'Come on, you'd better walk some of that off before we go home or you'll be sick again when we get there.' He took my hand firmly in his and set off down the road. I glanced around at the sleeping buildings, the dark windows ignoring our progress.

'Oliver, where are we?' I asked as a black car with a funny square orange light fixed to the top sped past us and threw itself round the corner.

'Fleet Street. I didn't think you'd want to bump into anyone else you knew tonight after that fiasco and this was the only place in Muggle London I could think of.' He replied.

'You're not dropping me off at Sweeny Todd's are you?' I teased and his face relaxed into a reluctant smile. We reached the end of the road and turned left. I shivered slightly as my body became aware of the temperature and wished Oliver had remember to grab my coat before he beat up my ex-boyfriend at my best friend's party. Oliver noticed and pulled off his suit jacket, slipping it round my shoulders before I could protest.

'That's a very pretty dress Georgie, but not great for this time of year.' I stuck my tongue out at him as we turned into a different road. We meandered through the streets of London in comfortable silence for a while, taking random turns down side streets until we reached the river. Big Ben loomed large over the skyline, the clock face glowing softly in the dark. I leaned against the railings, breathing in the crisp air.

'Sorry for ruining your night Georgie.' Oliver mumbled as he rested his forearms on the rusty railings.

'You didn't ruin it.' I sighed, 'I guess I just thought if I could have one night where I could behave like I used to I'd feel myself again.'

'Why don't you feel yourself?' He frowned.

'Because Georgianna Tattler is a flawless, fabulous creature who lives in London, models for Quidditch campaigns, gets invited to all the major social events and goes home every evening to her big empty house to the housekeeper and rooms full of expensive things. And now I don't have a job, I don't have a home, pretty much all of my friends haven't even tried to contact me since I moved and tonight was the first party I've been to in months and I kissed my ex-boyfriend and was sick. Classy.' I laughed weakly.

'Georgie, you're just growing up. When someone you love dies, it changes you. And personally, I think I like the Georgie standing right here with me a whole lot more than this fearsome Georgianna Tattler. She sounds the kind of girl I'd run a mile from.' He shifted closer and draped an arm around my shoulders.

'There's still time for you to run.' I muttered and he laughed.

'I'm not going anywhere. In three months' time I am going to meet you at the end of the aisle and we can start putting your lift back together.' I smiled and leaned my head against his shoulder.

'You're a nice person Oliver, I'm sorry you have to go through all of this for me.' Oliver was silent at my words and I almost thought he wasn't going to reply.

'It hasn't been as bad as I thought.' He said thoughtfully. 'You're not what I expected and I've been… pleasantly surprised to find how much I actually like you as a person Georgie.' I smiled as he finished and allowed my eye to close as I rested against him. He shifted slightly and I moved. His eyes were unreadable in the darkness as he stared down at me. I felt the blood rush to my face under his gaze and then swayed slightly as the combination of excess alcohol, tiredness and high, high heels became too much for me.

'We'd better get you home before you decided to take a nap on the pavement.' Oliver muttered and reached a hand towards me. I slipped mine into his and stared at the manicured fingers resting against the rough, tanned skin of a hand that could only belong to a Quidditch Keeper; it didn't look as strange as it should have done. Big Ben began to chime midnight dolefully as we Apparated home.

* * *

I'm sorry this chapter took so long to be published, I'm in the middle of exams at the moment and my results determine whether or not I can go to the University I want to, so I'm spending all my spare time revising. BUT in just over a month I will have officially finished and I have three months of summer to dedicate to Georgie and Oliver, and of course all you lovely people who leave me such nice reviews! xxx


	10. Chapter 10

'Merry Christmas, Georgie dear! Wake up! Breakfast in the kitchen in 15 minutes and then it's present opening time. We've got to be at Bridget's for noon and I promised I'd make a trifle.' Miriam burst into my room the following morning, pulling back the curtains so light flooded into the room and nearly blinded me. My head pounded violently and I was still wearing my dress, now extremely crumpled. Miriam noticed and shook her head despairingly at me.

'Shower and change.' She ordered before leaving, and I nearly laughed – Miriam on a time schedule was a force to be reckoned with. I slid out of bed, clutching my throbbing head and noting the dull ache in the balls of my feet from my heels. I staggered into the bathroom and peeled off my dress before ducking under the spray of warm water. After I dragged a comb through my wild curls in an attempt to tame them somewhat and pulled on a maroon jumper with a festive Christmas pudding knitted onto the front with my comfiest jeans, I trekked down the stairs and sank gratefully into one of the kitchen chairs. Miriam was kneeling by the fireplace, obviously Flooing someone by the green flames that flickered around her shoulders.

'Feeling rough?' Oliver asked as he entered, a grin spreading across his face.

'Just a bit.' I groaned, reaching for the coffee. He sat opposite me and buttered some toast, spreading on a thick layer jam. I shuddered at the thought of food and took small sips of my strong coffee, willing the caffeine to work miracles. Miriam pulled herself out of the fire and stood, shaking some stray ashes from her green robes. She smiled at us both as she sat down, spooning porridge out of a large pot on the hob into her bowl.

'Are you not eating dear?' She asked, observing me. Before I could open my mouth to answer, Oliver beat me to it.

'Georgie had a little too much to drink last night and finished the party by puking her guts up.' He laughed and I threw my napkin at him. It landed in his toast and he smirked at me, flicking it aside and taking a large, exaggerated bite.

'Oh Georgie.' Miriam sighed, passing me a small vial of clear potion. I tipped it gratefully into my coffee and downed it, steam soon pouring from my ears; Pepper-Up Potion was effective but never fun to take. The relief was immediate. I nibbled on a piece of toast until Miriam had finished her breakfast.

'So, presents!' I said, my excitement for the day returning quickly as my headache receded. I moved the empty plates and dishes into the sink and all but dragged Oliver though to the lounge. Presents in colourful wrapping paper were piled under the tree, where the fairies swirled delicately through the branches, giving out a soft glow. I dragged a footstool close to the tree and sat as we waited for Miriam to join us. Sifting through the presents, I found the one for Miriam from me, wrapped in shiny silver paper and a big red bow.

'For you.' I smiled as I passed it to her. She carefully unwrapped it, setting the bow aside and gasped as purple material spooled into her lap, the necklace sliding about on top of the robes.

'Georgie, it's beautiful.' She murmured, placing the hat on top of her head. Standing, she moved to the mirror over the mantle and held the robes and the pendant up against herself.

'Well I'm going to have to change again before we go.' She smiled, and then moved towards me to give me a kiss on the cheek.

'This one is from me dear.' She said, placing a small box in hand. I peeled off a layer of delicate gold tissue paper to reveal a small red box, flipping the lip open to reveal a pair of gorgeous sapphire stud earrings that glinted subtly in the soft light.

'Oh Miriam…' I said, holding them up to the light. 'You really shouldn't have.'

'Nonsense Georgie, you've been a delight and I wouldn't want anything less for my future daughter-in-law.' I suppressed a wince and didn't remind her that she'd missed the word _fake _from the start of that title. The earrings were nothing too fancy, each jewel was about the size of a pin head but the clarity of the stones suggested they were high quality. They really were beautiful. I looked up to see Oliver unwrapping a pair of gold cufflinks and ten pairs of socks and laughed.

'Now you can finally get rid of those manky ones you have darling, they make me shudder every time I put them through the wash.' Oliver chuckled and kissed her, handing her his own badly wrapped gift. The paper pretty much fell off of its own accord, revealing a stack of leather-bound recipe books by the famous wizarding cook Monsieur Blanché. Miriam emitted a squeal of excitement at odds with her generally demure exterior and began frantically turning the pages of the first book.

'Oliver darling, you shouldn't have bought the whole collection!' She exclaimed, eyes fixed on the pages as they turned.

'We each got a Christmas bonus at work because the team's been doing so well this season.' He dismissed her concern good naturedly.

'I just need to go and get your present Georgie, it's in my room.' He hoisted himself out of the squashy armchair and vanished up the stairs. Miriam glanced over at me and grinned. I immediately became suspicious.

'What on earth has he bought me?' I asked, keeping my voice low so a returning Oliver wouldn't hear me.

'Wait and see.' She replied, her eyes twinkling as she smiled. Oliver entered the room carrying a plain cardboard box. He navigated the litter of wrapping paper and presents and placed it carefully at my feet.

'I wasn't sure what to get you so I thought I'd get you something I know you don't already have.' He grinned, his cheeks flushing red as he backed away and sank gratefully back into his chair. I surveyed the box for a couple of seconds and then lifted away the flaps so I could see inside. I gasped and slid off my chair, reaching into the box to gently lift out a tiny sleeping kitten.

'Hey baby.' I cooed, running my fingers gently over the soft grey fur.

'I got a boy, I thought Maleficent might not be so upset then.' Oliver told me as I cuddled him closer to my chest. The kitten blinked several times and then stretched, wriggling in my hands and then settling back against my jumper, surveying the room imperiously before falling back to sleep.

'Well I have a name now for him.' I laughed.

'What's that?' Oliver asked, looking amused.

'Dominus.' I grinned and Oliver, understanding the translation, laughed too. I settled the purring fluff of fur back into the box and moved over to him.

'He's perfect, thank you.' I said, perching on the arm of the chair and wrapping my arms around Oliver. I summoned my present to Oliver from the pile and dropped it into his lap.

'It isn't much. You're very difficult to buy for.' I said nervously. He pulled apart the paper, revealing the biography I had found on my shopping trip in Diagon Alley, resting on top of a brand new pair of Keeper's gloves. Oliver's name was inscribed in gold script around the cuff of each glove and it gleamed slightly in the light. Oliver turned the book over in his hands, reading the blurb and a large smile spread across his face.

'Perfect Georgie, this is perfect, they're perfect, you're perfect.' He told me, and I relaxed. He pulled me down into his lap, hugging me tightly and I laughed at his exuberance. He slipped an arm around my waist as I settled more comfortably and we sat while Miriam started sorting the presents into piles for us to open.

* * *

At 10 minutes to 12, I was stood in the kitchen in pretty navy lace dress with a floaty skirt that swished satisfyingly when I walked, waiting as Miriam hurried around like a headless chicken, an apron still fastened over her new robes.

'Where on earth has Oliver got to?!' She cried, rushing past me while levitating an enormous trifle in front of her, clearly determined not to drop it. I stifled a laugh and walking into the hallway.

'Oliver! We need to go!' I called up the stairs, reaching down to adjust my heels. I heard heavy thuds above me as he thundered down the stairs, clutching his shoes, his tie unknotted and his cufflinks glinting from between his teeth. He dropped his shoes and started frantically trying to jam his feet into them, seemingly not noticing he was trying to put his right foot into his left shoe, without much success. I laughed and reached down to swap the shoes over, then efficiently knotted his tie while he secured his cufflinks. He puffed out a breath and pushed a hand through his hair.

'WE NEED TO LEAVE! NOW!' Miriam thundered from beside the fireplace and I all but ran back into the kitchen, dragging Oliver behind me. She gestured impatiently towards the fire and Oliver quickly grabbed a handful of Floo powder and stepped in.

'Brindley Place!' He cried over the crackling of the emerald flames and then he was gone. I didn't wait for Miriam to tell me to move and hastily reached for the pot of Floo power, stepping gingerly into the cool flames. I resisted the urge to giggle at the gentle tickling sensation around my ankles and instead threw down my powder, clearly repeating the name of Bridget's house. I shut my eyes tightly as I began to spin, tucking my elbows in close to my body, and a few moments later I staggered out of the fireplace in Bridget's busy kitchen, grabbing a chair to steady myself.

'Georgie!' Came the unmistakable squeals of my bridesmaids, dressed in identical knitted jumper dresses. They flung themselves at me, wrapping small arms tightly around my waist and squeezing with far more strength than they should have been able to before letting go and running away, high pitched giggles trailing behind them. I readjusted my dress and surveyed the scene before me. Bridget was wearing a striped apron over a red silk dress, her blonde hair pulled into a neat bun to stay out of the way while she bustled around her kitchen, checking the turkey and monitoring the vegetables as they were sliced rapidly by an enchanted knife. The dark head of her husband was buried in a cupboard and he could be heard muttering under his breath about bread sauce.

'Need a hand?' I asked and Bridget jumped, turning towards the fireplace as Miriam emerged from it, dusting soot from her new hat and clutching the trifle tightly as she steadied herself. Bridget hurried across the kitchen and pulled me into a tight hug, taking the trifle from Miriam and giving her the same welcome.

'Actually it's pretty much done, though I would like your help with this Christmas cake Miriam, it's sunk a little bit in the middle and I can't seem to save it. You can go through to the lounge if you want Georgie, I'm sure the girls would love to show you their numerous new toys.' I nodded and swiftly moved out of the way, smiling at Bridget's husband James as I passed him. I moved towards the sound of children's squeals and laughter, punctuated by deep roaring noises, finding Oliver wearing a dragon's head mask and chasing the twins around the room, both of whom were now sporting glittering imitation goblin-made tiaras. They skirted round the sofa, letting out shrieks of delight as Oliver lunged after them, his grabs always just missing in a way I suspected wasn't accidental. I let out a laugh as I watched and all three of them turned to look at me. Oliver pulled off the mask and grinned sheepishly at me, his cheeks flushed pink and his hair tousled. My heart thudded unevenly as he smiled at me and I felt my own cheeks deepen in colour, breaking his gaze to watch as Annabell and Cordelia skidded across the wooden floors in their festive socks.

'They're so cute.' I smiled as I watched them play. Oliver discarded his mask into a basket seemingly full of fancy dress items in the corner of the room and tugged me down to sit on the sofa with him.

'They are lovely, but they're such a handful sometimes, I don't know how Bridget does it.' He watched as Cordelia snatched a toy broomstick from her sister, climbing on and zooming away before Annabell could grab her, her toes barely skimming the fluffy carpet.

'Enough!' Bridget yelled as Cordelia zoomed out into the hall. She soon appeared in the door way, face pink, holding the broomstick and clutching her daughter's small hand.

'No mischief today girls, or I will send all of your presents to the poor children, because they know how to behave when they've just been given lots of nice new things.' She threatened and then marched back into the kitchen.

'I guess that's how she manages.' I whispered to Oliver and he smothered a laugh, turning it into a loud cough in the now-silent room. Cordelia sank into an armchair and opened a book, clearly sulking. Annabell made her way over to the sofa and wiggled in between Oliver and I, taking my hand and examining my engagement ring. The yellow diamond glittered and she ran a small finger over it in wonder.

'It's so pretty!' She told me, looking up into my face.

'It is.' I confirmed and Oliver smiled warmly at me. His arm moved to rest along the back of the sofa, fingers playing lightly with the dark curls that spilled onto the sofa cushions. My stomach gave a small flutter and I smiled back.

'Dinner!' Called Bridget, and we moved into the dining room, shepherding the girls with us.

* * *

I had never been so full in my entire life. I groaned as I shifted slightly in my seat, regretting the second helping of trifle. Oliver glanced over at me, eyebrow raised questioningly.

'Too much trifle.' I muttered and he grinned.

'I have the perfect solution to that.' He said, standing. 'Cordelia, Annabell, how about you tell Georgie about the game we play every year.' The twins squealed excitedly and both started shouting at once. From their garbled speech I took that we would be playing the Muggle game hide and seek, but with all the lights turned off. The girls raced off to find their toy wands, which lit up when waved and gave out light until they were waved again. Oliver and I assembled in the hallway with the twins as Bridget and James started levitating the dishes towards the kitchen, waving off my requests to help. Miriam was settled in an over-stuffed armchair in the lounge, a book propped open on her lap and her eyes dropping as she battled to stay awake.

'Right comrades, here are the rules. We split into two teams, adults verses children and when one team counts, the other team hides. No main lights, only wand light and no peeking!' He poked Annabell in the stomach as he finished and she giggled.

'And stay out of the attic!' Bridget's voice called from the kitchen.

'We'll count first.' Oliver told them and they immediately streaked off up the stairs.

'I usually give them a couple of minutes and then start looking.' I nodded and leant back against the banister, waiting. I watched Oliver through my lashes, noting the way his shirt strained slightly across his back and biceps and took a deep breath as the fluttering in my stomach returned. He reached a hand up to ruffle his hair slightly and the muscles in his arms flexed; I swallowed audibly and he glanced over at me and smirked as he caught me watching him.

'Alright there Tattler?' He asked, moving to stand very close to me.

'F-fine.' I stuttered, thrown by his sudden proximity. His face inched closer to mine until his lips were grazing the delicate outer shell of my ear.

'Do you want me to stop?' He whispered so quietly for a moment I thought I misheard him. I gave a tiny, impulsive shake of my head and he started to pull back, to move his mouth towards mine. At this point the voice in the back of my head, the one I had been so successfully ignoring during this entire exchange, burst through into my conscious and Oliver's words flooded my brain, bringing me back to my senses abruptly.

_'…unluckily she was there…'_

_'…an idiotic mistake…'_

I jerked my head back from Oliver's approaching face and he stumbled backwards in surprise. My cheeks were impossibly hot and I predicted they were post-box red as I met Oliver's confused gaze, quickly looking away.

'We should go and look for them.' I told him, and hurried up the stairs without waiting for a reply. I ascended onto the dark landing and lit my wand, directing it at each dark doorway as I passed. There was no noise to indicate Oliver was following me and I tried not to be spooked by the darkness. Straining my ears for any give-away giggles I was rewarded with silence.

'Damn, they're good.' I muttered and marched into the nearest room. The twin beds with matching white and pink covers immediately told me it was Annabell and Cornelia's room and I smiled at their girly decorations. Several dolls and stuffed toys were perched on the end of each bed and the ceiling shimmered, emitting a soft glow that ensured the room would never be in total darkness. I had similar paint in my childhood nursery to combat my crippling fear of the dark; something I hadn't quite grown out of yet. I moved out of the room and shut the door behind me. The next door yielded a bathroom, pristine white and gleaming in light from my wand. A cursory glance in the bathtub and the cupboard showed me the twins weren't hiding in that room either.

Ten minutes later I was getting increasingly nervy, having searched all of the rooms already and still not found Bridget's elusive daughters. I rotated slowly on the landing and then spotted a door I hadn't yet tried. I pulled it open to reveal a narrow staircase. Glancing behind me and seeing neither Oliver nor the girls I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and walked up it.

'Annabell? Cordelia?' I called, my voice shaking slightly. For heaven's sake Georgie, I scolded myself mentally, you are a grown woman playing a children's game, calm down. The light from my wand illuminated several boxes and furniture covered in white dust sheets and I smiled – what child wouldn't chose the forbidden attic, when it was so full of hiding places? I carefully navigated the boxes, occasionally lifting some of the sheets to look underneath them but found nothing. As I was about to give up, I spotted a large wardrobe by the door where I had entered, one of its doors pushed slightly ajar.

'Got you!' I chuckled and moved towards it, hand outstretched for the handle. Before I could pull the door open though, there was an almighty crack and the wardrobe burst open, something large falling from it and making a loud thud as it hit the bare floorboards. I stifled a scream and gripped my wand tighter, directing my wand light towards the thing that had fallen.

Oliver was lying in front of me, his limbs twisted at grotesque angles, his eyes open and glazed, void of life. I sank to my knees, sobs building in the back of my throat as I started at his broken body. I reached a shaking hand towards him but before I could –

_Crack!_

Oliver was in his Puddlemere United uniform, a large wound on his head pouring blood down his unresponsive face, his mouth slack, his eyes closed and still under the purple eyelids. I wrapped my arms around myself, unable to tear my gaze away but too scared to touch him.

_Crack!_

Oliver, dressed in his shirt and tie from dinner earlier, rose to his feet. I squeaked in surprise and forced myself to stand too.

'Oliver?' My voice was thin, wavering.

'I never wanted you Georgie, and I never will. I wish you'd just leave so I could carry on with my life.' He sneered. 'Things were great before you came along; I had Quidditch and Charley and I wasn't forcing my own dear, sweet mother to lie to the entire world about us. You ruined everything.' He leaned closer to me and I froze, the horror of his words rooting me to the spot.

'Everyone wishes you'd died in that accident, not your father. Nobody loves you, Georgie, we all just wish you'd disappear.' He spat at me, and the sobs I had been holding back burst forth in a hysterical wail. The high pitched noise increased in volume as my wand flickered and then went out. My panic levels rose still further and I realised I was screaming like a banshee, my legs moved me backwards of their own accord until I stumbled against some of the boxes, swaying in my effort to stay upright while completely disorientated by the pressing blackness. I could hear the laboured breaths of Oliver drawing closer to me and I screamed again, my wand clattering to the floor as I fumbled, trying to re-ignite it. I threw my hands over my face and tried to prepare myself –

Light flooded the room. The door that I had so mistakenly closed behind me burst open, revealing several people who spilled into the room quickly. My eyes fell on Oliver, identical to the Oliver in front of me, who was leading the group. My head spun and I started to hyperventilate. The Oliver in the doorway started to move towards me, wand held aloft and my hysteria mounted until finally my legs buckled under me and my head caught the edge of one of the boxes that had impeded me. I glimpsed the wardrobe Oliver turning to face the Oliver who had just entered and while trying to wrap my head around the whole situation, promptly passed out.


End file.
